


a heart made for taking flight

by freezerbees



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, Wild West AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2019-12-30 03:05:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18306920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freezerbees/pseuds/freezerbees
Summary: Yang and Ruby are seeing themselves across Vale by horseback, something that Ruby's been looking forward to since she was young, when Yang is found by a dark-haired girl with nothing more to survive on than her wits. Yang's apprehensive to offer help to the mysterious girl, but in doing so she finds a friend, a connection, and maybe just what she needs to see this adventure through to the end.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I came back! So, quick patch notes: I've added a prologue to the fic, so the next chapter, chapter one, might be familiar because it was previously posted first. If you've never read this fic before, none of this matters! 
> 
> Anyway, welcome to my wild wild west Beehaw AU, please enjoy!

The cool, just after-dark breeze is a welcome relief on Blake’s warm, sweat-damp skin. Her muscles are a kind of sore she hadn’t known was possible. There are spots on her body, her shoulders, her torso, her hips, where the skin will surely bruise over before it heals, and she can feel this in every careful, near-silent step.

She’s finally,  _finally_ out of danger’s grasp, though for how long she can’t guess. Every building she creeps past is unfamiliar, every doorway hiding a potential threat that will have a weapon in their hand before words can leave her mouth. The only ones who can possibly help her are currently an ocean’s length away, and now it’s her mission to get back to them. It sounds so simple when she thinks about it like that.

There’s very little on her side, not time, not people, hardly even herself. The only thing that she has going for her currently is the night, which allows her to haunt past alleyways and windows without the fear of being seen. But nighttime is limited, and so are her resources. She can get a lot done with a well crafted blade and a clouded-over moon, but it’s not going to get her across a continent.

No, for that she’ll need food, water, she’ll need supplies to stay warm and supplies to set traps, and above all what she’ll need is a means of travel. She’ll soon have less days to complete this journey than she does fingers on two hands, and that leaves her peeking just past a building, as a pair of riders steer their horses down a dark, lamp-lit road.

They stop just outside of a general store, a wooden-fronted building with pictures of produce and their various prices painted across it. One of the horses is a massive thing, coat shimmering a pale honey-gold as its rider dismounts and ties it to a post. The rider is a woman, tall and sturdy with yellow hair that splays out behind her in a barely-contained ponytail. Just behind her is a smaller horse with a smaller rider, body slim but spry as she bounces off of her own mount. The horse she ties down is a shiny silver color, and flecks of white decorate the entirety of its body like a snowstorm. Blake’s not particularly familiar with horses but she knows one that looks healthy, that looks fast. She imagines clinging to it as tight as she can, urging it so fast that she can hardly keep her eyes open. Flying across the country at high speeds, pulling into the fog-sick city with time to spare.

Her fingers twitch.

“Oh, shoot!” The smaller girl squeaks as the two of them head up the general store steps, “I think I left my book back there.” She pats her pockets wildly, doubles back to her horse and fishes around in a saddle bag. When she comes up with nothing she turns to her companion and says, “I’ll just run back and get it.”

“Can you wait a minute?” The taller girl says, voice taut, “I can go with you, but he’s closing down in there and I just need a couple of things, just hold on.”

“No, I got it,” The other girl waves her hand in a dismissive motion, turning and hopping down back to the dirt path. “I’ll be right back.”

“I wish you would wait,” The other girl hums, tense.

“I wish you would… shut up,” her companion quips back with a giggle. She darts away, unbothered, but the taller girl watches her go with a hand still raised to stop her. She watches the unmoving shadows for a few seconds more before giving a slight shake of her head and opening the general store’s door, the gentle dinging making the secondary cat’s ears atop Blake’s head twitch. Now’s her moment.

She slinks between the squares of light that glow on the mud just beyond windows and cracked-open doors, moving from one space between a pair of buildings to another. The horses don’t seem to notice her approach, but she only gets so close before a creaking of the wood inside gives her pause, the sound coming dangerously close to the open window. A feminine voice floats out close by.

“...Just the two of us, but we’re having a good time.”

“Two of you? ‘S pretty dangerous-sounding,” Comes a much deeper, raspier reply.

“Don’t give it too much mind, we’re more than capable of holding our own.” The girl replies, and the adrenaline that’s Blake’s been going off of runs thinner. Just the two of them? These girls look hardly weathered, or do a damn fine job of hiding it. Blake can’t see them going up against an actual threat and faring well.

Close by, the silver horse gives a mild shake and Blake’s mind snaps back to her mission. She needs to be able to move fast, and the rest of the horses in town are bedded away in their stables, far out of Blake’s reach. It feels bad, she doesn’t want to hinder these girls, that’s not why she’s doing this. But the past 24 hours of her life has been a series of difficult, foolish decisions, and maybe right now that’s all the justification she needs.

Blake inches forward, and as she does the wood beside her creaks loudly. Peeking around the corner reveals that the girl is leaning out the window, eyes scanning the darkness. Blake freezes, knowing her companion will be back soon. Time’s running low, she can’t linger on the people she’ll hurt in her wake. Yet still, she doesn’t move.

Finally the girl dips back into the shop and Blake forces her legs to move her closer, gently circling around the ring of light in which the horses stand. She’s focused so deeply on her mission that the only thing she’s listening for is footsteps, right until the shop keep’s grating voice comes again, saying something about a town, a place called Marmouth.

Blake’s attention turns back to their conversation, ears swiveling to catch the sound. The shopkeep is muttering on something about earlier, and nearby, that it all started because they welcomed “those beasts” back on our shores with aplomb, and with them as always comes trouble.

“Oh, yeah,” hums the girl, “It’s rough out there.” Blake frowns.

“If you ask me, we’d be better off cutting away off contact with ‘em, though I s’pose Mantle needs someone to get down in the mines. But we don’t need ‘em here in Vale, we got plenty of stray dogs already. Let them tear each other apart on their island.”

“Yeah, right?” The blond girl hums. “What’s my total?”

Blake’s feels her blood wash hot down her body. Like she’d needed a reminder not to interact with the local populace. She itches to barge in there, to tell them exactly what happened and why it went the way it did, but there’s an easier outlet for her frustrations, one more rewarding, one softly nibbling at the grass around its hooves.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” The girl is saying, but her voice is growing louder as the distance between them lessens, and Blake knows she has to jump to action.

“Really, thanks for staying open, but I should get going, Taleri’s not exactly close, and we’ve-”

And then Blake can’t hear anything the girl is saying, because she moves out of the nighttime and into the horse’s line of sight, and it takes this about as well as it would seeing a mountain cat bleed towards it from the shadows. A deep, unsettling bray lets loose from the silver one’s muzzle, and it rears back in panic. Blake flails backwards, holding up her arms in a panicked attempt to block the horse’s sharp, muddy hooves as they flail towards her. She windmills back, barely keeping herself off the ground but doing more than enough to alert those around her. Footsteps converge in all directions, and Blake makes a desperate escape attempt to the safety of the dark.

“Hey, what’s-!” A voice calls after her, too close for comfort. It’s the voice of the smaller girl, still a few steps away, but not as far as Blake would have hoped. She makes off around the building, but pauses when she hears no one coming after her. Heart pounding in her chest, breath wanting to heave but held tight in her lungs, she listens close. She should run again, that was too close.  _But did that girl say..._

“What’s going on?!” The blond’s voice is loud, challenging as she bursts out of the front of the shop. The smaller of the two rushes to her horse’s side, speaking to it in hushed, gentle tones.

“Something gave Silver Bullet a real scare,” The smaller girl says. Blake waits for more, an accusation, but they say nothing else, more focused on leveling the hard breaths of the steed.

“What the hell got her so upset?” The blond asks, concern spiking her words. “Was it a coyote? Maybe another horse got too close? Did you see anyone?”

Blake holds her breath.

“I thought I saw… I’m not sure, I wasn’t paying attention before. But when she reared up something definitely ran off, bigger than a lizard.”

“Don’t like that.” Her companion huffs. They speak in hushed tones for a little while longer, then there’s the sounds of saddlebags jangling and fabric rustling as the girls steady themselves on their rides. Part of Blake is upset that she bungled a good chance like that, but the other part is so relieved to not be caught up in something else awful that she could cry. It also helps that this wasn’t exactly a fruitless venture.

Taleri is the second largest port town in Vale, and one of the largest cities on the continent in general. It’s the place Blake needs to get to in almost nine days, and now she’s gone from having not a single clue how to get there to having two, albeit unknowing, guides. Shaky as it is, it’s still a step forward, and that’s something she really needs right now.

Blake rounds the back of the general store and eyes the main road, watching the pair of horses and their riders slowly pick their way down the path towards a cluster of tents just outside the city. Her muscles itch to pick up the pace as she heads off after them, but Blake is careful to control her stride. She’ll need to measure out her energy as much as possible now, it’s a very long road ahead.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {from the originally published first chapter}
> 
> beehaw got me, y'all. the perfect combination of some good gay girls and the best parts of red dead redemption two, exploring the gigantic green world on my horse and helping out strangers along the way. with the two of them combined, i had to scribble some of my ideas out.
> 
> while the aesthetic of this fic is '1800's america', it does take place on remnant and includes faunus, and is otherwise nonmagical. i'm also playing calvin ball somewhat with continent sizes and geography, mostly just to give them more space to cross.

She spots the girl again through the smoke from the dying fire. There’s a shadow, a flicker, a misshapen twist in a branch by the sparse trees surrounding the hollow. It’s the same kind she’s been seeing all day. Yang’s hand yearns to reach for the holster at her hip, but she keeps it still. Behind her, Ruby yawns a final goodnight and Yang waves, turning back to watch the flap of her tent flutter closed once she’s crawled in it. Hopefully it won’t be long before the muffled sound of her snores fill the hushed night air.

They’d traveled far today, enough to leave them plenty sore from riding, and finding a place to settle down for the night had proven more difficult than either of them had expected. Scouting out somewhere not too far off the road but not too deep into the woodland always sounded easy, but navigating a pair of annoyed mares through the underbrush at late sunset was… less simple than they’d hoped.

Yang sweeps her gaze over them now, heads drooping a few yards off where they’re tied. They’re glad for the rest, heads drooping after a long day of travel. Horses, taken care of. Ruby, asleep. Yang’s mind, like it’s been these past few days, is a rapid-fire checklist of basic survival needs. Food, shelter, water, surveillance, defense, rest, transport, safety, safety, safety. Her thoughts simmer with the last hot coals inside the fire pit she’d made. Yang’s having fun on this excursion, she’s learning a lot. But her sore muscles and ache from the constant squeeze of worry in her chest make it hard to deny; this was a trip planned for three people.

She pushes the thought away again, persistent as the mosquitos at dusk set after her blood. That’s not something she can deal with right now, not something she can change or fix. This makes it different from the dancing shadow that’s moved two trees closer since Yang last checked.

A fear of bandits is a healthy thing to instill into a child, especially when that child’s parents spent the better parts of their youth on the literal trail of danger, success, and wealth. Speaking from experience about the kinds of awful people there are out there and what they’ll do to get what they want, it should be an effective way to teach anyone to stay on their guard.

But then to lace those stories in glory, in trinket-sized prizes and scars worth just as much, to tell them tales of victory on the back of a stallion about to tear across the countryside at full-pelt, and maybe the child might start to get a different kind of idea about how to deal with the kind of people in the stories they’ve heard. Yang’s arm inches closer to her hip.

Yang slowly tucks her chin into her chest, the motion hopefully jerky enough to look accidental, natural. Squinting through half-closed eyes makes it difficult to survey the landscape even with the light of the moon, but the stretch between the last thick-trunked trees and their camp is a straight dash, and all she needs is a glimpse of movement. Instead, from within the tent Ruby kicks a sack filled with mugs and pans, and the resounding clatter catches both girls off-guard.

Yang’s head swivels to check the source of the noise and in the half-beat it takes her to look away, the shape makes its move. Something in Yang’s mind fixes on, “They were totally invisible, how-” but her arm moves faster than her brain, reaching in a smooth motion to her side. The rush of adrenaline that comes with drawing the gun feels like a rock dropping into her gut, but that doesn’t stop her from pointing it, thumb moving fast to the hammer of the pistol.

She knows how she must looks in this moment, she’s wasted plenty of hours in front of the dusty parlor mirror practicing just this pose. The light of the half-full moon will spill over her waves of thick blond hair, and her vibrant irises will smoldering in the dark. Her form towers over the rapidly retreating body in both height and build and she tries - tries - to keep her hand from shaking as she points her firearm. She hisses in a voice just above a whisper, “What the hell are you doing?!”

The person just fumbles, hesitating at the gleam of polished metal under moonlight. Their legs shake as they try do decide to dart left or right. Finally, the soft earth at their feet makes the decision as their legs go sliding out from underneath them, backside crashing into the grass and any lasting poise dashed in the moment. They gasp, “Shit, shit, ” and that’s when Yang sees a sheet of black hair fall back from their face, and a striking pair of yellow eyes searching hers, wide with fear.

“I didn’t- I wasn’t,” Her voice is higher than Yang expected, and splayed across the earth she looks like a wild thing, cornered and tightly-wound, ready to spring. She also looks gaunt, and underneath those yellow eyes are deep, sinking bags. Her cheeks are startlingly hollow, and the whole of her body is shivering slightly. Yang’s grip on the gun falters, her posture weakens. The girl takes this as an opportunity to move and Yang’s body jumps to life again, pointing with renewed vigor.

She says, voice a little stronger now, “Why do you keep doing this?”

The girl’s eyes go wide then quickly narrow, fear and anger mixing into something sour across her face. Gaze still trained on the gun, she moves slowly until she’s holding herself up with both palms on the grass. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She huffs.

Yang makes a sound like an amused gasp. She gestures to a silver can a few feet off, one of the two Yang had “accidentally” dropped earlier in the evening. She’d told Ruby that they were too difficult to see in the shadows cast by the fire, that they’d grab them in the morning. Apparently both of her audience members had believed this. Yang snaps, “Oh, you know, stealing our food? ”

At first she’d thought it was raccoons or some other kind of incredibly clever little creature always getting into the packs they hid. Or perhaps they’d missed a step in all those lessons with dad, and there was some in-between step that would clear up why only small, almost unnoticeable bits of rations would go missing for three mornings in a row. It’d been Ruby, voice low and steady as they approached their horses yesterday evening, who’d asked Yang if she saw the girl that had just disappeared behind a small, stone bank. Yang hadn’t, but Ruby still wondered aloud if it was the same girl from “Before, back in Seil.”

Then it seemed the more Yang looked, the more she saw this figure moving out of the corner of her eyes. Never front-and-center and never for more than a second, but the unique pattern of a tightly-tied hair bow on top of a smooth sheet of raven-black hair began to stand out, especially as the days wore on into night and crowds grew thin. Yang can just see the bow now, tousled along with the rest of the girl’s unwashed hair.

“Why are you always in the right place?” The girl snarls, accusation as empty and weightless as the air between them. Yang squints. The girl looks down.

“I don’t mean to keep taking from you.” She tries again, talking through her teeth. She’s, keeping surprisingly composed here, even as Yang sees the muscles in her arms start to shake. “I’m… I’m on my way to Taleri. I wasn’t supposed to be, but now it’s the only place I can go. But I don’t have any money. Or a canteen, or a gun. These shoes weren’t even made for heavy travel.” Her voice gets tighter and tighter as she speaks. Yang thinks she can see tears in the corner of her eyes, but she’s not sure.

“I don’t know where you’re heading,” She continues, “But I do know you keep showing up just when I can’t pick my feet up anymore. I try not to take much, but, well, three days adds up, I know.”

Yang’s mind whirs. Questions spring up one after another, but what’s becoming most clear to her is that this isn’t the vicious bandit she’d been expecting all evening. While Yang mulls this all over, the stranger’s eyes flick back to the gun, still held loosely in her direction. Yang’s arm drops and and the girl shudders as she breathes out.

“You’re not following us?” Yang asks.

“If we’re both going down the same road but I’m an hour behind, is that following?” She snaps. She cringes a moment later, shaking her head. “I try to stick near water and the trail, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re doing the same. But I’m sorry. And it won’t happen again.” She sounds so tired.

Yang runs the numbers, not taking her eyes off the girl. She and Ruby are in no hurry these days, spending most of their time veering off-course to check out any small towns they might pass, or taking some time out of their day to stretch their restless muscles beside slow-moving rivers that snake their way through the hills. Then she imagines the process of the girl before her, trudging in a straight line of tired, heavy footsteps. Her feet ache in sympathy.

The stranger’s starting to look around now, feeling the immediate danger fizzle out and no doubt scoping around for the fastest exit. Yang knows if she hesitates another beat the girl will be up and gone, that after this she’ll never see her again. She gives a small shake of her head and tips her gaze up to the stars, whispering a silent, sorry dad . Out loud, she sighs before saying, “Well if that’s the only knife you got, you shouldn’t ruin it when I’ve got a can opener instead.”

The stranger’s eyes narrow. She only has time to whisper What- before Yang steps backwards, away from her to pick up one of the dropped cans. The stranger continues watching, either immobile or still deciding on which direction she’ll run, while Yang takes more steps back from where she’d fallen. Yang doesn’t turn her back on the girl, but she does resume sitting on the stump she’d been using as a seat before.

The only signs left of the fire are damp leaves and blackened wood, and Yang kicks at the wettest part of it with the toe of her boot. She and Ruby will be fine away from the night’s chill in their padded coats and sturdy tent. Her guest won’t have the same luxury.

“I’m sorry, what do you-”

“Sardines?” Yang asks, squinting in the low light.

“What?”

“I grabbed a few of these by mistake when we set out, and I don’t think they’ll get eaten unless everything else in the valley goes missing at once. I can’t eat them plain and Ruby hates the smell, but you’re welcome to them.”

The girl just looks at Yang, not entirely steady as she tries to regain balance on two feet. Another night wind rustles through the trees and Yang is kept safe from most of it, but the clothes on the other girl are an ill fit for this valley in the spring, and she winces as the gust pushes her hair out of her face.

“You don’t have to do this,” The black-haired girl says, and Yang counts her lucky that she’s familiar with the “I want this so much, but have to be polite about it,” game. The girl has moved no closer and still looks like any second now she’ll turn and run, but her eyes are focused on the can in Yang’s hands.

Instead of giving her an answer, Yang fishes around in the pack beside her until she’s able to find the right utensil, a can opener that’s little more than a sharp, warped piece of metal. The can lets out a small hiss of tangy air as Yang punctures it, and soon the pungent, fishy brine is the only scent in the air.

“Guess this goes to the foxes then,” Yang says, placing one opened can on the ground in front of her and getting to work on the other. Her smug attitude feels good for all of ten seconds, before the girl in front of her visibly shudders again at the sight and smell of what’s in front of her. She slowly crosses the last few feet it takes to get to the edge of the fire pit, and takes a seat on the ground opposite Yang. When her arm lifts to reach across the empty pit she hesitates further, and Yang gives it another push forward.

“I’m not joking, you need this. Eat.”

And she does. In the time it takes Yang to get the lid pried off the second can, the contents of the first are gone and the metal licked clean. The girl makes no attempt to hide any of the slurps or sighs that come with tipping as much as she can into her mouth at once and Yang can’t decide if it’s a little endearing or a lot heartbreaking. Glinting yellow eyes flit up towards the other can, a skinny hand moving to take grab it quick as the first, and then her entire body heaves.

It’s only for a second, a wet cough followed by a series of small, pained burps and shivers. But the girl’s hands still fly to her mouth, fingers intertwining to keep her mouth shut against the rolling waves of pain.

“You’ve really eaten nothing for days.” Yang says. It’s not so much a question as it is an admission of shock. The girl doesn’t grace Yang with a response, taking the time instead to lurch over, sucking in careful lungfuls of air.

“Okay, slow down, deep breaths.” Yang finds herself saying, reflexive as reaching out to grab something falling towards the floor. “This is a lot for your body to deal with.”

“I know, I know.” The girl breathes, her body steadying. When she no longer looks like she’ll topple at the slightest movement, Yang offers her a half-filled canteen. “Small sips,” She says.

The stranger obliges, and Yang eyes the ground between them again. Food and water will help, but she needs to get warm. It won’t be exactly easy to start a fresh fire on a spot she just dumped in extra bathing water, but not impossible. Yang’s never had too hard a time getting a spark to take, and this girl needs all the help she can get.

“My name’s Yang, by the way.” Yang says, watching the girl’s tired face as she lowers the canteen back down. She doesn’t entirely look like she wants to accept the introduction, but a quick glance at the empty can on her lap wins the argument.

She says, “Blake."

“This is quite a way to make your acquaintance, Blake,” Yang says, daring a tight smile. Her boot mucks the wettest earth away between them, replaced fast by branches Ruby had gathered up hours earlier.

“Well,” Blake says, fighting off something like a smile of her own, “You weren’t supposed to catch me.”

But it’s a pretty good thing I did, Yang wants to say. Not everyone would be so kind to a stranger, not everyone would be so hesitant with their gun. But she’s sure that’s not something that Blake needs to hear right now. Instead she says, “Yeah, well I’m known to be pretty good at rounding up trouble when it passes through.”

“Can’t say I’m too troubled by your version of ‘rounding up.” Blake says dryly. She leans back and hands the canteen back to Yang, eyeing the still-full can of food beside her. “But. Thank you. And again, I’m so sorry. This wasn’t, none of this was supposed to-”

Sparks go flying as Yang strikes the pieces of flint in her hands once, twice, three times. Most of the tiny lights go out as soon as the touch the chilly air, but a few make the landing and nestle deep into their bed of pine needles and twigs. Smoke rises in a thin plume as flames flicker to life between them. In the still-dull light, Yang sees relief in Blake’s honey-gold eyes. She can also see the details of her face; the lift in her cheekbones, her long eyelashes, the soft curve of her lips.

Yang’s mouth goes a little dry.

“Well.” Yang days, inching back from the sudden heat of the fire, “It’s the least I can do if we’re gonna keep running into each other like this. Might make our next talk less stressful.” She searches Blake’s face for a sign of recognition or movement, but the girl’s eyes are mostly still glued to the open can, still by Yang’s side. Yang hands it over. “Small bites this time.”

Blake obliges, pinching bits of stringy fish out of the can and this time taking the time to taste the food. Yang quietly tends to the fire while Blake chews.

“So, can I ask you something?” Yang asks in the following silence. Blake makes no effort to hide the apprehension on her face, but she also doesn’t say no. Yang continues, “How… You said you were going to Taleri?” Blake nods. “But you’ve got no gear, no travel, no food… What happened?”

Blake’s eyes cast down to the fire, a thousand untold stories flashing past in a single frown. Her fingers tighten on the half-full can she’s holding and for a moment Yang thinks it’s over, that she’s spooked her and she’ll run, but Blake just exhales.

“It’s a long story,” She says. “And most of it is just me being a fool.”

“Been there,” Yang mutters, and Blake snorts and shakes her head.

“I doubt it.”

“Well there’s your first mistake.”

Blake’s eyes flick up, skepticism written plain across her face. Yang’s chest puffs out just a little at the challenge. She says, “The one thing you need to know me,” She says, a hair shy of boasting, “Is that I should not be doubted.”

Blake watching her for a heartbeat too long and her fleeting smile isn’t the reaction Yang was expecting, but it’s not a bad one. Blake says, “That’s good to know.”

“But are you sure you can make it to the city like this?” Yang continues, “It’s another few day’s journey on from here, even we don’t have the food to make it, we’ve got to stop on the way.”

Any joy on Blake’s face flickers in the light, eyes distant. “I don’t have any other choice, anywhere else to go.”

“Well, who’s waiting for you in the city? Maybe we can give them a message, let them know you need help.”

Blake’s head drops. Her face contorts into a tight smile and Yang thinks by the shaking of her shoulders that she’s laughing, right up until the sob. “There’s no one.” Blake says. “No one’s there for me, I left them all behind.”

“Oh,” Yang says quietly, suddenly feeling the chill of the night. She doesn’t know this girl, shouldn’t trust her if her theivory record is anything to judge on. But right now everything inside of her wants to help quiet Blake’s sobs and stop her from shaking.

“You should to rest by the fire tonight.” Yang tells her. The moment the words are out of her mouth a part of is already running new plans. She’ll have to sleep out here as well then, to keep watch and make sure none of the precious items in the tent get disturbed. Maybe she’ll move the food in there as well, and find a place to keep that pistol. None of these mild troubles compare to the wide-eyed shock Blake is trying to hide across from her.

“Yang,” She says with a sniffle, voice once again that quiet kind of wanting, “You don’t have to-”

“No, you should.” Yang interjects. “I mean, it’d kind of be a waste of a fire now, right?”

Yang can see that Blake definitely wants to put up more of a fight, but like with many instances tonight, the wants of her mind and the will of her body don’t seem to match up. Instead she nods, running the heels of her hands over reddened eyes. She gives a soft, “Yeah,” and surveys the land around her. She says again, “I guess so.”

While she finds a place where the grass is soft and the wind is blocked, Yang gets up to loosen a tightly-rolled bunch of fabric from her golden mare. It’s supposed to be used in the emergency of a freak snowstorm, but tonight the skies are clear, and Blake is visibly relieved to be sleeping off of the forest floor.

“I took from you.” Blake says not long later. Yang can see her just across the pit, part of her tarp pulled up over her shoulder for warmth. Her gaze is distant, guilty. “I took food you needed, and you’re rewarding me.”

“Oh no.” Yang says flatly, spreading her bedroll out in front of the tent. “You were starving and took all of some jerky and dried fruit rations. Come on, you’re in need of help. And you’ve had chances to take our tools or our horses before, but you didn’t. And you’re sorry about it.” As Yang speaks, she’s all to aware how convincing herself as much as she’s working to convince Blake. “So yeah. I’m sure they’ll have your wanted poster up in the police station of the next town over, what with to all the jerky theft.” She’s joking, but Blake doesn’t laugh. She doesn’t move at all, except for to drum her fingers on the ground in front of her.

“We… won’t find wanted posters of you in the town, will we?”

This time at least Blake reacts, even if her laugh is dry. “You won’t... Well. At least not for hurting anyone. On purpose.”

She’s so… interesting. There’s so much Yang wants to know, so many threads she wants to pull until their feet are littered with string. But the night is growing long and with the additional food and warmth, Blake’s attention seems to be fading fast.

“Am I allowed to ask you a question?” Her voice is unexpected, soft above the cricket’s songs.

“Shoot.” Yang responds.

“You keep saying “we,” and I’ve seen the girl you’re traveling with a few times before. Who is she?”

Yang tenses. Buddying up with a vagrant and inviting them to spend a night in her camp is fine when it’s just Yang, but the potential danger it might put Ruby in has its claws in her, deep. Suddenly feeling every part the dragon she was named for, Yang keeps her voice measured as she responds, “My sister. We’re running a trail we used to travel on as kids, heading out to see our uncle.”

“All the way in Taleri?” Blake asks.

For a moment, Yang’s blood feels extra hot in her veins. She waits for Blake to catch herself, to realize what she’d said. But she just continues looking past Yang at the treetops swaying in the breeze. She looks almost more asleep than present, head resting on her extended arm. She doesn’t seem to notice how long it takes Yang to respond.

“Yeah.” Yang answers finally. “He has a job is in the city and his boss got him tickets to see that Atlesian Ice Princess everyone loves when she comes to town.” She could say more, something about how they’ve been planning this trip for years, or that for a long time both of them thought it would never happen. She could talk about how it’s been harder than she expected in so many ways and how it’s almost worth it, if not for the constant worrying about keeping the rest of them together and alive.

Then, too suddenly, Yang’s glad she didn’t say much more at all.

“An Ice Princess performance in Taleri…” Blake repeats while Yang’s mind is elsewhere, her voice almost lost under the hiss and crackle of the fire. “What day is that?”

“Eighteenth of May,” Yang says, repeating the date she’s been hearing about since Ruby had received Qrow’s letter. “Six days away.”

By the sound that Blake makes, Yang’s first thought is that she must have inhaled a spark of the fire, or maybe a bug near her mouth. Whatever it is, she doesn’t address it further. She holds that breath in for a few moments longer, then rolls over so her back is facing the fire- and Yang.

“Your sister’s lucky, Yang,” Blake says before she goes quiet for the night, “To have you.”


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two! I hope it makes up for the wait. On the good side, chapters three and four are already written, and just need to be cleaned up before I can post them. I'm hoping to get 3 up very soon, because it's my favorite of what I've written so far, and I'm excited to share it. But I'm excited to share this too!

_Clack, clack._

Blake frowns into the crook of her elbow. The air smells sweet like morning, and where her skin brushes against grass wets with dew. She reaches for the idea of falling into another deep sleep, but it’s not meant to be. Her mind is awake now, brought to attention by the repetitive tapping behind her back.

_It’s late,_ she realizes as her eyes adjust to the sun, taking in the space where the tops of the trees meet the sky. Last time she’d opened her eyes that sky had been dark, with wisps of light in the distance suggesting the coming dawn. She should have gotten up then, dragged her protesting muscles off of the bedroll and back on the trail. But her feet ached at the thought, and for as good a meal as two cans of pickled fish made, it wasn’t nearly enough to give her the energy she needed. This was a battle she couldn’t win, she’d thought, resting her head back on the bedroll. Five more minutes.

Her thoughts had wandered as she lay there, watching warmth and brightness again approach the world. She had so much to worry about, to think on, yet her mind returned again and again to Yang. To the gaze of a lioness she’d held when Blake been seen, or the way her glower had softened as the two of them spoke. She could snap Blake in half if she wanted to, or put a stop to the thief with the single pull of a trigger. But instead she’d given her food, warmth, much-needed rest. Gratitude feels clunky and uneven on her shoulders. She’s not in a position to be owed such kindness, and she’s not in a place to be forgiven.

_Clack, clack._ “ _Ugh!_ ”

Blake starts, her mind snapping to the present at the sound of a voice she’s not familiar with, at least not this close. Her body tenses and she turns around slowly, finding herself face to face with the girl she’d seen riding alongside Yang since she’d spotted them.

“Oh, sorry! Did I wake you?” She asks, a little too sweetly.

_Of course you did._  Blake wants to say. _Banging rocks together a foot away will do that_ . But the look on the girl’s face doesn’t read “ _Oops_ ,” as much as it says, “ _I did it_ ! _”_ and so Blake sees no reason to explain further. Instead, she asks, “Where’s Yang?”

The taller girl is nowhere to be seen, and after a second of searching, Blake realizes that the horses are also missing. The only ones around are themselves.  

“The horses were getting antsy for a drink,” The girl explains, “And then Yang had to, you know, answer nature’s call. But she’ll be back soon, and she said she had something to tell you when she comes back, so please don’t make a run for it right away.”

It takes a moment for Ruby’s words to register. Blake’s only been awake for minutes, and is once again suffering from the sensation of having absolutely no idea where she is. She pulls herself up into a sitting position, flicking off bits of grass and dead leaves stuck to her skin while she mulls over a response. It’s strangely relieving, realizing that Yang’s request means she doesn’t have to make up an excuse to leave, not yet. Maybe she can grab another bite to eat before she goes.

“And you’re her sister?” Blake asks.

“That’s right!” The girl says, chest puffing up as she speaks. “Ruby Rose, master of the open road.”

_You don’t exactly look it._ Blake thinks. _But at least you’ve got the spunk._

As more of her waking senses come back to her, Blake’s hands reach upwards to thread through her tousled hair, but go still when her fingers brush up against short, velvety fur. Suddenly she can’t remember the last time she’d re-tied that damned bow, and a heartbeat later she sees Ruby’s eyes flick up to where her hand had paused, and then down just as fast. There on the ground, obstructed by the corner of her bedroll, is Blake’s ribbon.

Blake waits for Ruby to comment on the obvious, or maybe make a joke about how it makes more sense that she’s a thief now. But she says nothing, only watches while Blake runs the crumpled fabric through her fingers, then tucks it away. It takes Blake an extra uncomfortable moment of being watched to realize that Ruby’s still waiting for her name. She says, finally, “Blake.”

Ruby nods at the response, offering her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Blake.” She says, and when their eyes meet again, Blake sees the first trace of Yang in her sister. There’s an expression she has, one that’s curios but doesn’t feel like judgement, with empathy that doesn’t feel like pity. The weight on Blake’s chest, the familiar panic of finding her ribbon isn’t exactly where it needs to be to keep her safe, lessens.

“I’m surprised your sister left you here.” Blake says, floundering under so many conflicting emotions. “If I even looked at the tent last night she’d have her gun on me.”

“Oh, well, yeah,” Ruby says, face going red, “I’m supposed to yell for her if you wake up. But I think I could take you.”

“Oh, well then.” The girl has no visible fear in her body, none of the trepidation her sister had held the night before. In place of such worry is round-eyed curiosity, a litany of barely held back questions. In a way that strikes Blake as _trying_ to show off, she watches how Ruby’s hands fumble to cleanly strike flint against steel, not helped by the way one her knees bounces while she tries to sit still.

_Clack, clack, “Dang it!”_

Ruby’s hands aren’t as sure and confident as Yang’s had been, and the shower of sparks she produces flit out long before they have time to catch flame. But the girl is determined, attention switching back and forth between Blake and her task.

“I wanted to get the coffee going before Yang got back,” Ruby explains, readjusting again so she’s almost on top of her tinder pile. “But I don’t know how she,“ _clack,_ “Gets it!”

Blake watches the girl’s plight for all of a few moments before her mind gets back to wandering. At this point it’s second nature to start looking around for anything edible while she’s not moving, taking the break to search for something that will give her an extra boost of energy. At first there’s nothing particularly useful in sight. But then, through the veil of leaves and bushes at the edge of the hollow, is just the sight Blake needs to get her to her feet.

“Blake?” Ruby asks as she steadies herself on rest-wobbly legs. Blake just holds up a finger and takes a few steps until she’s at the treeline. Ruby watches with interest as Blake slips behind the Konifer tree, hands delicately lifting up a branch that got caught on another tree before it could hit the ground. The branch is long dead, only still intact because it never reached the forest floor. Blake runs her fingertips along the surface of the branch for a moment before she finds what she needs, and with a satisfied _hmph,_ a long strip of bark peels from the branch into her hands.

“Here,” she says, turning back to Ruby, whose interest is clearly piqued. “This should help you.”

Ruby’s hesitant at first as she watches the bark get crushed into bits in Blake’s hands. Blake’s tempted to commend her on it, as certain oils or the moss on the bark can make for terrible, thick-smoked fires with fumes that are know to leave the head spinning. But it probably won’t come across well, that Blake knows simple fire-starting tips as well many deadly poisons offhand, so she keeps the thought to herself. First impressions are important.

“This is what we use in Menagerie to start ceremonial flash-fires,” she says, “You’re not even allowed to grow it in certain places because if it gets too hot somewhere too dry, you’re looking at a days-long wildfire. So I think it’ll help to heat up some coffee.”

Ruby nods, muttering a soft, “ _Ohhh_ ,” while waiting for Blake to sweep the last flecks of the bark off her palms. Then she’s reaching back for her tools and holding them at an angle that’s almost right.

_Clack, Cl-_ “Oh!”

Easy as breathing, a shower of sparks land on top of the dry wood and seep in, grabbing hold and smoking instantly. The burgeoning morning breeze encourages the flames, and it isn’t long before the fire is searing deeper, spreading to the bed of twigs and debris below.

“We did it!” Ruby shouts as she frantically feeds and rearranges the burgeoning flame, “I think that’s the fastest I’ve ever gotten one started!”

Blake can only smile, watching as Ruby excitedly begins reaching for water-boiling tools she must have pulled out of the tent. Getting counted as a _we_ when seconds ago Ruby was wondering if Blake was taking a chance at her life wasn’t what Blake was expecting, but she’s not complaining. It’s nice to just be comfortable beside another person again.

“That’s such a cool trick!” Ruby enthuses as she pours the contents of her canteen into a small metal teapot. “How did you recognize the tree like that?”

“It’s simple,” Blake begins to say. This is the kind of stuff she’s heard forever, the kind of things her parents were teaching her in rhyme when she was a child. She’s about to explain to Ruby the distinct differing shades in Konifer bark that means it’s either one of the best or worst tinder sources to be used in a given situation, but she’s cut off by the sound of snapping twigs and clomping hooves up beyond both of them.

“Well, good morning.” Yang calls as she clears the treeline. She’s got a smile on her face and her voice is bright and cheery, but as Yang approaches her eyes are locked on Ruby, and her smile doesn’t reach them. “Ruby, you-”

“Yang, good timing!” Ruby bursts out as quickly as she can, motioning to the fire where she’s set up the small iron rack and the teapot that sits on top of it. There’s no missing that Yang wants to have a stern word with her, but Ruby doesn’t give her a chance. “Ta-da! The fire didn’t want to start at all, but Blake really helped me out and we got one going in no time.”

Her gaze returns to Blake, “Oh yeah?”

Apparently, gone is the unstoppably altruistic Yang from the night before. Under the morning sun, or perhaps besides a precious sister, it seems Yang’s taken a few steps back from deciding that Blake’s not a threat. Blake can’t really be surprised, considering how it was they’d met, or… earlier comments from Yang’s side.

“Konifer bark in the spring is great for starting fires.” Blake says. She wants to say something like, “Stop looking at me like that, I wouldn’t lay a hand on her,” but she hopes the similar points come across. Yang doesn’t stop eyeing her like she’s remembering every ounce the thief that she’s been, but at least she relaxes enough to stop looking like she’s about to reach for her gun. Again.

Yang’s voice is a shade kinder when she speaks, “That’s… really good to know, thanks. How are you feeling?”

_Achy. Hungry. Terrified._ “Rested.” She says.

“Happy to hear it.” Yang says with a polite smile and a nod. It takes her two false starts before she speaks again, and when she does, she’s not looking in Blake’s direction as much as just below it. “Listen, Blake. You said there’s no one waiting for you in Taleri, right? No one at all?”

She falters. The unguarded gratefulness she’d begun to slink into disappears, replaced by taller, thicker walls. She makes herself look up all the same, using the prick from her fingernails digging sharply into her palms to focus. “No one,” she says. “except whoever’s selling tickets at the docks, I guess.” She’d been trying to sound bored and uninterested as she spoke, but the tension is heavy on her tongue and comes out in every word she says.

Yang begins to speak again but Ruby beats her to it. “You’re going to Taleri?” She asks. “Alone?”

Blake nods. Ruby casts a glance at her sister. “Are you sure that’s… safe?” As she speaks, she lifts a hand to point at the top of her head, and in response Blake’s own ears swivel forwards. She frowns.

“I read that Taleri is an open city.” Blake says. Laws about Faunus exclusion had been getting turned over frequently in the past decade or so in Vale, thanks mostly to the largest active faunus rights conglomerate known as The White Fang. Largely in thanks to their efforts, cities had begun enacting smaller laws to provide them with job opportunities and slightly more legal protection. “Open” cities referred to the fact that these places where “open” to faunus.

“Well, the rules say it is.” Ruby says, voice stilted. “But…”

“But a lot of rich people live there,” Yang spits, suddenly, “And it’s incredible what their cops will look away from for a few spare lien, and that’s if they’re not the ones orchestrating it.” The girl’s voice is tight with words further held back, and she has to pause to take a breath before she speaks again. “During the daytime you should be fine but at night… Just find somewhere safe to sleep.”

Blake almost laughs. “Um, right.” Ruby tilts her head, Yang frowns. “Thanks for the warnings, but “people are bigots” and “don’t be seen in the dark” isn’t exactly new advice.”

“Yang,” Ruby starts to say, but her sister is louder.

“Of course. But what I wanted to tell you was that if you need help when you get there, head to the Misten District and ask around for a man named Qrow. Tell him you know us, and he should be able to give you food and somewhere to rest.”

“Yang,” Ruby’s voice again, louder, insistent.

“Oh, I can’t… I- Thank you.” The feeling that blooms in Blake’s chest is warm, only familiar when she thinks again about how Yang had helped her the night before. For someone who watches her like a snake coiled to strike, Yang’s been the most helpful person Blake’s met in days.

While Blake tries to come up with a way to express the confused gratitude swelling inside her, Ruby’s voice sharpens, loud enough to earn a malcontented snort from the horses nearby.

“”Yang!”

“What!”

“She’s going to _Taleri._ ”

Yang’s voice is tight, her arms are crossed. She doesn’t want to have this conversation. Not here. “Really good assessment of the situation, Rubes.”

“No, I mean… You said she’s got nothing but a _knife._ And _we’re_ going to Taleri,”

Blake’s mind jumps ahead the final few steps as fast as Yang’s does, the both of them breaking their respective silences to speak at once.

“Ruby, that’s not. No.” Yang says, voice taut.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t,” Blake says, putting both hands up like it’s an accusation. “I couldn’t… It wouldn’t feel right. You shouldn’t.”

“But why _not?_ ” Ruby asks. “Look at her, she… You need _help_.”

It’s not that the thought hadn’t occurred to her already, the same foolish want that plays every time she sees a stranger. Maybe this one will let her ride in the back of his cart without asking any questions, maybe that one will see she can’t pay and buy her a meal. But aid from a pair of sisters who have so little, who she’s already taken plenty from, doesn’t feel right.

At least one of them has enough sense to not needlessly add a third mouth to their group, but when she checks again with Yang she’s surprised to see that the girl looks thoughtful, more inclined to agree with her sister than Blake had expected. But it doesn’t take long for her to shake her head again, and look pointedly away from the confusion written all over Ruby’s face.

“You have a good heart, Ruby.” she says after a pause, “But sometimes we have to make tough calls in order to keep ourselves safe, alright? Especially from someone like her. We’ll help Blake out, we’re doing that right now, but we have to think of ourselves first while we’re out here.”

_“Like her”? What does_ that _mean?_ Blake feels her brow tense. Even as the surprise hits, the confusion, there’s a sing-song voice in her head reminding her, “ _You knew she’d never trust you, you knew she’d always be wary_ . _You knew, you knew, you knew._ ”

The inference doesn’t go unnoticed by Ruby either, whose open surprise and offense at her sister is almost warming. _Tough way to learn that a pretty smile can’t help a twisted heart._ Blake thinks.

“Why would you say that? That’s a ter-” Ruby says, but before Yang can answer there’s a loud hissing between them as the water in the kettle comes to a boil. Yang takes this as a cue to break away from the conversation and head for the collapsed tent, tossing, “Could you deal with breakfast, sis?” over her shoulder as she goes.

Ruby just watches her go, face steadily reddening. She gets to work tossing together a can of instant coffee and hot water in a shiny mug, but she does so while avoiding Blake’s gaze, utterly mortified.

“It’s going to be fine.” Blake says softly. “Help once I get to Taleri is going to be exactly what I need. And you need to consider how your sister and I met. I wouldn’t expect this much kindness from a stranger I _hadn’t_ been robbing every night. This is more than enough.”

Ruby doesn’t look up from where she’s stirring the coffee, breathing in deep the tart, earthy steam that floats above it. “It’s not, though,” she says, just softly enough for Blake’s secondary ears to pick up.

“I promise I’ll speak with this “Qrow” as soon as I get into the city,” Blake continues, “And I’ll look out for you while I’m there too, maybe we can catch up before I go.”

Ruby shakes her head. “No, we’re not staying too long after we get in.  We’re leaving with our dad when he comes down from Mistral, so it’ll only be two or three nights.”

“That should be plenty of time.” Blake shrugs. “I shouldn’t be more than a few hours behind you most days.”

At first Blake thinks the long silence following her words comes from Ruby, frustrated and defeated in the wake of their choice. But then the girl’s eyebrows knit together and her gaze goes distant, and her head gives a small shake. It’s Yang who finally speaks, tent now fully collapsed and slung over her shoulder.

“Blake,” She says, “How far do you think Taleri is from here?”

She’s not surprised at the question. It’s the same one that’s been in the periphery of her mind for days, the looming threat she can’t ignore. What is surprising however, is how hard it is to say it out loud. Arms crossing, Blake shrugs. “Four, maybe five days.”

Yang looks almost pained at the aloofness that comes with Blake’s answer. Her tone is level as she says, “On horseback, maybe. On foot it’ll be over a week, easy.”

“ _You’re_ on horseback and I’ve kept up with _you.”_ Blake doesn’t mean for everything she says to stack in defensiveness, much like she doesn’t notice how her hand has once again balled into a fist until the muscle starts to ache.

“And that’s... amazing.” Yang says, “But right now you’re also weak enough for a strong breeze to knock you over. I just think you should allow a little more time for yourself to get into town is all.”

“That’s not an option.” Blake says, fighting to keep her voice from wavering. “I have to get there by the 19th. I _have_ to.” _I have to do at least one thing right without causing more trouble._

In a blink, both sisters go from looking at Blake to looking at each other. Ruby’s face is set hard in determination, gaze unwavering as she looks to her sister. Yang matches this, but her lips twitch into a frown. They stay that way, locked in a silent conversation Blake can’t hope to read, for a good five seconds. Then Yang’s hands go back to busying themselves, working on packing away the tent and the rest of their goods on the backs of the horses. She doesn’t say anything more.

“If you won’t come with us, that’s fine.” Ruby says. “Maybe we’re a little more company than you need. But I can’t-” another glance at Yang, not watching, “ _We_ can’t leave you out here with nothing.”

_You can._ Blake thinks, not looking up from the fire. _You should._

“By early afternoon we should be in Kipsee. It’s a small town, not a lot of people, but they’ll have food there and a place to rest and restock. Will you at least come with us that far? So we don’t have to leave you out here in the _woods?_ ”

_That sounds incredible._

But before she can make herself say it, even think it,  she lets Yang finish tugging various leather straps on and around her mare. When the silence runs too long the golden-haired girl finally looks away from what she’d been doing, to where Blake sits in wait.

“What are your thoughts, Yang?” Blake asks. “Worried about all the potential danger from someone _like me_?”

She doesn’t mean to, but as she speaks she can feel her ears curl back in a dismissive flick. It’s right after this that something changes in the way Yang looks at her, realization blooming from an O shaped mouth. “Oh wait, Blake, that’s not what I-” she tries to say, but at the twin risen eyebrows of Ruby and Blake, her shoulders drop. She lifts a hand to her hair, giving it an anxious, embarrassed pull. She says, “I’m sorry. Come with us to Kipsee. Please. Hopefully someone there can help you get to Taleri in time.”

It still feels like an overextension, a misstep on Yang’s side to even be open to the idea. But Blake finds there’s relief there, at Yang’s apology and of course at Ruby’s invitation. Finally it comes time to admit what Blake had known all along; that if she didn’t want their help, she wouldn’t still be here.  

“Okay,” She says, first to Ruby whose face lights up into a grin as Blake gives in. Then she shifts to look at Yang, whose face is a crossfire of emotions, but easily distinguishable within them is relief. “I’ll come with you.”

“ _Thank you.”_ Ruby groans, hands slapping loudly on her thighs after she throws them up in frustration.

“Don’t thank me for needing help from you.” Blake says dryly. Ruby’s not convinced.

“But I have to,” She says, “One, for not making us wonder whatever happened to the girl we left in the middle of the forest. But _also_ for spicing up the trip Yang and I are on, it gets kind of boring when you’re just riding in a straight line every day.”

_That_ catches Yang’s attention. Blake can just see a fast ripple of movement as Yang turns towards them again. Something raw flashes in her expression, and for a moment it looks like she has something to add, but chooses instead to stay quiet.

Blake says nothing about this, and instead braves a sip of black coffee from the mug Ruby hands her. It’s hot and bitter, almost too much to take in. But she can almost feel the energy coming from it, like its life and spark is pouring into her body through the heat on her teeth. Finally something’s gone right, and it feels like things could be okay. It feels like the sun has just broken through the cover of clouds for the first time in days.

The sun’s just cleared the treeline when the three of them head out, the only remains of their morning left behind in damp ashes. Ruby had saddled up on the smaller of their horses, the lightly-built silver mare that Ruby had lovingly introduced to Blake as “Silver Bullet, ‘cus she’s just as fast.” Blake had stood a few yards away, worried her presence might give the horse another scare, but it regards her boredly, far more interested in the food Ruby had in her hands.

And impressive as Silver Bullet is, the horse’s back will hardly benefit from the addition of another rider. That leaves Blake stood beside Yang’s towering draft horse, a massive golden mare she’d heard Yang coo towards as “Bumble.” She’s waiting for Yang to climb up first on the horse when instead the girl turns to face her, voice low, eyes flicking to where Ruby‘s loading up Silver Bullet a few yards behind them.

“Look, I just want to say… I know how I came off back there. It wasn’t good.”

Blake says nothing. She’s not wrong.

“I do want to help you, Blake. I don’t think you’re a bad person, or someone that- See, that’s what I mean!”

Yang’s voice grows just above a whisper as Blake tries to wick away the guilt that’s no doubt written across her face. The hand she’d been using to idly stroke the horse’s mane tenses, and the horse snorts in response.

“You’ve made it so clear you have to get to Taleri and soon, but you haven’t once mentioned _why._ All I know is that you’re trying to get on a boat out of here as fast as possible. Maybe that doesn’t raise some questions for my sister, but I can’t say the same for me. Let me help you, Blake, and tell me what you’re running from.”

Blake just watches her, stone-faced and stone-gutted. What could she tell her, what would she believe? She’s only known Yang for what, hours? And now she’s supposed to trust her, open up with secrets that she hasn’t even fully digested? They stay in a terse silence then, until Ruby’s all-too-cheerful voice comes between them. “Can she reach?”

She’s referring, of course, to Bumble, their silent third party who grows more and more uncomfortable in the weighted air between them. Yang just waves, voice switching effortlessly back to sisterly bright and attentive.

“Nope, just giving her the full tour!”

“Pretty great, huh?” Ruby calls back, “Wait ‘til you see the view from the top!”

Yang moves in then, docking one foot in the horse’s stirrup and hauling the rest of her body up and over in a single motion. When she turns back to offer a hand down to Blake, it’s not just the girl’s height that makes her feel small.

“My goal was never to hurt anyone.” Blake says, leaning back on one of the few truths she’s been able to keep hold on so far.  “There’s no blood on my hands.”

Yang, again, says nothing. Her hand remains extended, and then near-effortlessly hauls Blake up and over the saddle before waiting for her to get settled in. For a moment Blake thinks her empty platitudes might have been enough, that maybe it would make Yang stop sliding her sidelong glances like she’s a dog that can’t differentiate a hand and the food it offers.

But as Bumble lurches into motion and the two of them began to make headway, Yang’s voice bounces off the trees around them, dry and scorching enough to make Konifer bark start smoking in the midday sun.

“We better get a move on, Rubes.” She calls. “I want to get to Kipsee by noon.”

 

 

Blake had once entertained the idea of catching up on sleep during the trip, but she soon finds that rest doesn’t come easy on the lurching, wobbly back of a horse. She soon learns that the best she can do is stay balanced, and try not to accidentally fall and fall forward and go crashing into Yang. Again.

“You new to riding?” Yang asks after Blake does exactly that. “Most regular riders don’t have so much difficulty finding their rhythm.”

Blake huffs, wriggling again in a vain effort to find a comfortable, stable spot. “Sort of,” she says, “I’ve ridden a few times, but mostly I’m in the cart behind the horse.”

“I might have guessed,” Yang hums brightly. “Well, don’t tire yourself out trying not to fall. If you need to hold on a little tighter, I won’t judge.”

It’s almost tempting. Yang’s hair spills out behind her in soft, earthy-smelling waves, and Blake could entirely imagine herself pressed against it, gripping the girl underneath like a much-needed anchor. Her hands twitch at the thought, entertain the idea of snaking around Yang’s waist until her fingers are linked together, but she can’t make herself take the final plunge.

This would be so much simpler if Yang would just decide to hate her. The girl’s made it clear, by gun or by glare, that something about Blake doesn’t sit right with her. And it shouldn’t, as far as Blake’s concerned. But for every too-long glance from Yang also comes an outstretched palm, an offer to help without giving up too much.

Since their short talk back at the hollow, Yang had lilted back to the cheerier side of herself, more bad jokes and less lengthy pauses. At first Blake had thought this was due to Ruby, the one who had never doubted her intentions, and who had ignited this entire absurd situation with her unstoppable kindness. But as they made conversation down the road and Ruby had asked Blake how long it had been since she’d had a hot meal, or slept in a bed, Yang never hid her concern.

Blake had heard the sharp intake of breath from the girl when she’d recounted her days to Ruby, and she’d been able to see how Yang’s hands tightened on Bumble’s reins when Blake had sighed, “As for a bed… Gods, almost a week?”

As it is now, Yang doesn’t say anything more, focusing instead on navigating Bumble around a number of stones and fallen branches that litter their path. Ruby is doing the same behind them, _hmph_ -ing to herself as she reaches beside her and starts rummaging through the bag on her hip.

“We’re on the right trail, right?” She asks.

“You tell us,” Yang calls back, “You’re the one with the map.”

Blake watches as Ruby fumbles with a well-folded piece of paper while still keeping a hand on Silver Bullet’s reins. This doesn’t seem to go over well with the horse, whose ears begin swiveling in distaste as Ruby folds the map out into its full spread. Ruby’s hand absently moves to give the horse’s neck a soothing pat, but the action is empty, and the horse’s movement remains jittery, irritated.

“Looks like we’re in the right place,” Ruby reports a few moments later. “Though I think we’re the first people who have come through here in a while.”

“That map’s gotta be, what, ten, twelve years old?” Yang calls behind her,” Maybe someone cleared out a faster route since then.”

“Hm,” Ruby hums, “We’ll have to see if Kipsee has anything more recent when we get in. This sucks.”

She’s referring to the debris on the ground, a particularly thick mess of fallen branches and time-worn stone that leaves the trail they’re on indistinguishable from the surrounding woods. As she speaks, Silver Bullet’s hoof lands on the flattened end of a branch hidden in the underbrush, and then everything that happens afterwards is too fast for her to take in.

Silver Bullet rears, an angry, panicked sound echoing out from the depths of the horse’s chest. Not a second later Ruby screams even louder, limbs flailing. Blake’s eyes are drawn to the commotion at Silver Bullet’s front hooves, first the jostled piece of wood that scatters into splinters, then what she swears to be fast-moving banded rings of yellow, red, and black. But she only sees this for an instant, because a moment later the horse is taking off at a full sprint, leaving the sound of Ruby’s weight hitting the rocky, hard earth behind.

Blake gasps, Yang shouts, “ _Ruby_ !”, and Ruby skids even further before she stops. She curls her body inward, fetal, mouth opening and closing with wordless pained gasps. Then Yang is launching herself off of the saddle, boots hitting the ground with a _hard_ crunch that she doesn’t appear to feel. She’s by Ruby’s side in a heartbeat, one hand reaching for Ruby’s head and the other going for one of the fists the girl has curled on her chest.

Yang is _terrified,_ and in no state of mind of hide it. Her breaths are shaky and fast, and her eyes, though glued on Ruby’s face, are hundreds of miles away. It is not a pretty sight, but it also not unfamiliar. Try as her parents might to keep her from it, Blake has seen many a sibling, parent, lover, holding on to their loved one like this, convinced that they’re about to watch them die.

Blake doesn’t try to move Yang away, and she doesn’t speak. She crouches wordlessly beside the gasping girl, aware of Yang’s gaze shifting from Ruby to her hands.

“Don’t touch h-!” She snaps, but something in the look Blake gives her stops her short. Maybe it’s the certainty, the absolute absence of panic.

She says, voice level and sturdy, “I’m a healer.”

Yang says nothing. She crouches further down and goes back to telling her sister to breathe.

“Wind’s knocked out of her.” Blake says, if only to remind Yang that it’s not the worst imaginable injury. “Ruby? You’re okay, but you need to relax, okay? Breathe, can you do that? Slow, deep breaths.”

Ruby nods, and Blake’s relieved to see that she’s present and responsive. She tries to draw in another few short, pained breaths, and each attempt is slightly smoother than the last.

While Yang watches, Blake’s hand moves to Ruby’s head, fingers running fast up and down her scalp, watching Ruby for any reactions. Ruby gives a slight shake of her head once Blake pulls her hand back, almost shivering in relief at the lack of blood. The feeling lasts about three seconds.

“Not… my head.” Ruby gasps. Her breaths are still fast and shallow, her face still red from the effort and pain, but she’s holding it together like a champion. Giving herself another moment to catch her breath, she then pants out, “Ow, ow, ow.”

She’s lifting her leg as she speaks, and underneath a matte painting of dead leaves and twigs and gravel, Blake can see deep, angry red, from just her knee down to her ankle.

“This is where…” She says, but then Yang is pulling her close, helping her sit up and rotate her body, trying not to disturb the hurt leg and utterly failing.

“Is it bad?” Yang asks, and Blake’s not sure if she’s asking Ruby or herself. Either way, Blake gets to her feet and heads back to where Bumble is stood waiting, hardly affected by any of the goings on around her. Ruby and Yang had insisted Blake use their backup canteen on the road, and she returns to Ruby’s side with it now.

With Yang’s help the leg gets elevated, and any remains of the pants Ruby had been wearing are cleanly torn away. Blake gives Ruby a quick glance as she pulls the stopper on the canteen.

“It’s gonna sting.” She says.

Ruby nods, unafraid. “I know.”

It takes the contents of all three of their canteens until the water that runs into the dirt below is no longer dark red, and what’s left behind is not a pretty sight. It’s also not what had gone through Blake’s mind when she’d heard Ruby shout, and it makes speaking with the sisters much easier.

“You’ll need to see a doctor in town.” Blake says first, eyes scanning the length of the wound. Ruby’s lost a good few layers of skin, but only three spots had taken the real brunt of the fall. There’s no deeper trouble though, no twists, no fractures, nothing in need of immediate, life-threatening care. “But other than some itchy bandages and a cool scar, you should be fine.”

Yang almost falls back in her relief, the weight almost visibly removed from her shoulders.

“Oh my gods, Ruby.” Yang says. And in her sigh there’s familiarity as well. The breathless, shock-laden voice that she speaks in is one Blake loves, as it carries the invaluable relief of a loved one evading death another day.

“Yang,” Ruby says, voice now recovered as she breathes in light, even breaths. She’s taking it a lot better than Yang, honestly. “I know you’re worried, but… Silver’s out there, and…”

“Oh, the stupid _horse!”_ Yang gasps, head turning to the direction they’d all seen it take off in. “Ruby, I can’t leave you here yet. I mean, okay, of course, but give me a second to-”

“I’ll go.” Blake says. Ruby perks up at the offer, and Blake waits for Yang to give it the customary second thought. Instead, Yang doesn’t even look at her, nodding with a simple, “Good,” while she gets to work unspooling lengths of bandages from one of their packs. Both girls exchange a glance, taken aback, but Yang harly notices, digging deeper into a small tin case marked with a red heart.

Blake can’t help but notice that, besides some bandaging, there’s very little else that’s useful in their supplies. Small bottles and tinctures to clean out the wound, but nothing strong enough for the deepest cuts. She thinks about telling them this, but anything that is not Ruby’s wellbeing exists only in Yang’s periphery, and so she instead makes a mental note to mention it later.

Ruby gives her a fast summary of Silver Bullet’s likes and dislikes, (Likes, carrots, apples. Dislikes, thunderstorms, big dogs.) and watches the distance in distress, only to wince as Yang gives her leg another readjustment. Blake gets going, anxious to do whatever she can to lessen Ruby’s discomfort.

Blake’s always thought of herself as a decent-enough tracker, but it’s not difficult to see where in the undisturbed woodland it was that a horse ran through. She weaves through a mostly-straightforward path for a couple minutes, and soon she finds a break in the trees, and an irritated silver mare watching her as she approaches.

Her mind is stuck on the first time she’d done this, swathed in the blanket of night and approaching like a hunter, with all the intention of Ruby never seeing her again. She tells herself things are different this time, that this won’t lead to disaster, but she can’t chase away the worry. Things are so different now, she doesn’t know what she’d do if another misstep from before ends up making things even worse.

But her worries don’t last.

“Hey, girl,” Blake breathes, soft. Silver Bullet’s eyes are on her the whole time as she approaches, slow and smooth through the nagging underbrush. She holds out a palm, continuing, “It’s alright. You’re okay,” until she’s by the horse’s side.

There’s no bucking, no threatening snorts, only mild interest as Blake runs a hand down her sweat-damp neck. Maybe it’s just because Blake didn’t appear out of the dead of night this time, or perhaps that it had seen how kind Blake was to Ruby, and has decided she’s not a threat.   Whatever the reason, the horse stands still, unbothered, until Blake takes her reins and gives a gentle pull. The horse moves forward without complaint.

“Well that went better this time, huh?”

Horse in tow, Blake does her best to forge a line through the trees and bushes until she can find the semi-cleared path. It’s not a difficult trek back, but Blake’s eyes are still peeled for further disruption, another thing that could send the horse bolting in the opposite direction.

Instead, Blake finds her eyes drawn to a thick bushel of vegetation on the ground, where long, wide red-tipped leaves reach upwards towards the sun. Her heart soars. Most of the plants in Vale are similar to those in Menagerie, with a few noticeable differences. But Blake knows the shape of those leaves like she knows an apple on the tree. _Perfect._

With one hand still on Silver Bullet’s reins, Blake crouches down and feels around at the stems of the plant, shooing away any insects that might be living there before she plucks out two, three, four of them. She hesitates, knowing the sisters will fare better having a few extra, but also that taking too many could wither the plant. She mulls over the decision too long, Ruby’s brave face burned into her mind, and then hastily snaps off one final stem. Her father wouldn’t approve, but apparently that’s not something she bothers with anymore.

The situation she’d left them in looks much less dire upon Blake’s return. Ruby’s comfortably sat up against the roots of a tree, her leg propped up and coated in haphazardly applied gauze. A few red spots have sept through over the hardest hit places, but Ruby looks far more relieved than distressed when she lifts her head to the sound of them approaching.

“You found her!” Her voice is bright, and her body sags against the tree bark.

“She didn’t get too far off.” Blake says, looping the horse’s reins around a tree branch in the same fashion as Bumble’s. “And came willingly, which was nice of her.”

“I’m glad,” Ruby says, reaching over to pat the horse affectionately, even if she can only reach a little ways up its leg. “She’s been kinda flighty lately, but I’m sure she knew you meant no trouble.”

While she’s at the horse’s side, Blake begins feeling around the bags fastened on and around their saddles. She does so in plain view of Ruby, but the other girl is preoccupied with cupping her hands around her mouth and calling out to the open wood, “Yang, we got her!”

Somewhere, a bird takes flight. There’s a pause, then a familiar voice calls back from a distance, “Great!”

“We needed more water,” Ruby explains nonchalantly, moving to adjust herself and gasping sharply a second later. Blake can see her jaw clench, and watches one of her hands smack the earth, needing to counterbalance whatever she’d done as quickly as possible. It’s around then that both of them seem to remember that no matter how brave Ruby can be, it doesn’t make her wounds any less deep.

Blake finally finds what she needs, the same mug she’d sipped from earlier, since rinsed clean of any coffee residue. She makes her way to Ruby’s side, laying the leaves she’d gathered on one side of them, and the cup on the other.

“What you got there?” Ruby asks, eyeing the leaves, then the knife Blake produces from the back of her belt.

“Fuchsia Broadleaves,” Blake explains. She takes the first leaf from the pile and hooks her fingernail in the middle of the stem. Slowly, tediously so, she peels back a layer of membrane, and left behind is a thin, jelly-like substance that Blake then carefully scrapes away with her knife, theb deposits into the mug. “But in Menagerie, we call it Plaster Aloe.”

“So, medicine? I’m hoping?” Ruby asks. Blake offers the tip of her knife, where a small glob of the aloe still remains. She takes it, and finds that white initially slippery and wet, it dries quickly, and she soon has to break her fingers apart with surprising force.

“Not so much medicine as a bandage,” Blake explains. She continues to raze the leaves until there’s a considerably large amount of substance in the mug. Blake uses her knife to stir and mix it, turning it from slippery chunks into a slippery paste. “You put it over a wound to help keep it clean. The gel seals it from the outside air, and keeps it undisturbed until you can get it tended to by a doctor.”

“How do you know all this?” Ruby asks, quietly awed. “You said you’re a healer?”

Blake’s ears twitch up, betraying her no matter how badly she wants to ignore the question. Ruby must notice how long it takes Blake to choose her words, but she waits patiently, watching the fluid motion of Blake’s hands as she works to peel away the first layer of bandaging on her leg.

“‘Healer’ may have been a bit of a stretch.” Blake answers sheepishly. “My father is… a spiritual leader in our home, a village called Kuo Kuana. A deep, well-versed relationship with plant life is one of the tenants of that faith. With such a depth of knowledge of herbal medicine, he took the path many in that faith do, combining spiritual healing and physical healing in the clergy.  So, you spend your life overhearing enough quick recommendations and disaster action plans, it all just sort of sinks in.”

Ruby’s leg is bare now, and Blake’s hand reaches for the mug. She nestles the untorn side of her leg into her lap and slowly rotates it so she can reach even the deepest gashes. Ruby’s eyes don’t leave her hands, but she says nothing, and doesn’t hesitate to allow Blake as much room as she needs to work.

“Will it hurt?” Ruby asks, voice slightly softer than it’s been so far.

“Your skin won’t like having anything put on top of it.” Blake says calmly. “But it dries fast, and after that it shouldn’t feel like anything at all.”

Ruby nods, brave face back on as Blake begins to work.

Despite the quick-acting nature of the medicine, the process of applying the aloe to the whole of Ruby’s wound is anything but painless. Ruby says nothing, but the animal of her body flinches every time the cool metal of the knife applies another layer. Blake thinks of Ruby’s round, curious eyes as Blake had been talking about her home, and lets her voice come out in a soft tone as she returns to the mug for more.

“Plaster Aloe, Cider Root, Munkwart, there are a lot of plants you learn to look out for in Menagerie.” Blake says. Ruby nods, her attention caught. “It’s a beautiful place, but dangerous if you’re not careful. Growing up there means getting dirty, playing in the mud, climbing trees, trying to swing over rivers. So if you’re a ways away from home and get bit by a willowthorn spider, parents make sure their children know the easiest and most accessible solutions to the problem. As well as which ones to avoid, of course.”

“Tell me more about Menagerie,” Ruby breathes, jaw set and unmoving, even while Blake can see small beads of sweat spotting her forehead.

“Well, it’s… An island.” Blake says, her mind reaching for a time when she loved the island, and was less bored to death with its every grain of sand. “Part of it is green and lush, the land bursting with fruits and flowers and wildlife. Depending on who you ask it was either a gift from Firstmother herself, given to the first Faunus tribes who established a homestead there. Others might say it was a paradise because those tribes kept to themselves, and had no desire to interact with forces who had proved themselves dangerous to us…” Blake trails off as Ruby’s glowing expression dims. Oh right, not exactly what she’d asked.

“Anyway,” she continues, “The shoreline cities are large, bustling places, and what I think offlanders don’t realize is that most of Menagerie is meant to be experienced outdoors. The sun is warm most months of the year, and the stormy season is famous for the colorful blooms that follow. There are marketplaces that feel like they stretch for miles, and there you can pick up a fish caught an hour ago, or wine that’s been in a cask for fifty years. Deeper in the cities turn agricultural, settlements built around fresh water and healthy earth. If you go even further you’ll find the Drylands, but most people I know call it _The Warrior’s Grave…”_

It isn’t until the blade of her knife runs across the rim of the mug and comes back empty that Blake realizes she’s done. The length of the wound has been covered, and the furthest edges of the aloe have already started to dry into a tight, opaque cover. The pain in Ruby’s face has finally lessened, and she breathes out a slow breath of relief when Blake pulls back. Blake’s surprised at how at ease she feels as well, a noticeable lack of tension in her still-heavy limbs.

“It feels like it’s pulling the hurt out right out,” Ruby sighs, closing her eyes. “Blake, thank you so much... I hope you know the invitation to Taleri is still open.”

And suddenly the relaxation, the flow, the ease of existence in the moment is gone, replaced by a wave of guilt that swells around her calves and threatens to pull her under. Blake pulls herself away from Ruby’s side, muttering something about, “Try and keep it straight,” as she stands.

“Thank you, Ruby,” she manages as the girl gawks at her from the ground, shoulders drooping.  “But you can’t keep bringing this up, especially around your sister. She doesn’t see it the same way you do.”

“It’s not like that!” Ruby says. The frustration in her voice is nothing compared to the look on her face as Blake meanders away and she can’t follow. “Yang’s got a lot going on in her head, she’s not seeing … She’s not acting like- Yang’s,”

“I’m what?”

As Ruby fumbles with her words, the sound of snapping twigs announces Yang’s presence just before her voice does. On one arm are all three canteens, full if the flexing muscles of her arm is anything to go by. Blake has to stop herself from staring as Yang moves closer, dropping her bounty at Ruby’s feet.

“Coming back soon,” Blake cuts in as Ruby tries to say something else, but Yang appears to hear neither of them as her attention turns to Blake’s handiwork.

“What is _that?”_ She asks.

Blake fills in Yang about the Plaster Aloe, feeling Ruby’s gaze on her the entire time. Ruby says nothing, but Blake gets the feeling it’s not the last she’s heard of their disagreement. All the same, she continues to focus on how the aloe is a _temporary_ medicine, and that they should get to a _real_ doctor soon. Yang, unsurprisingly, agrees.

Unfortunately, that leads them to a new dilemma. The initial plan had been to hoist Ruby back on to Silver Bullet with Yang’s help, but the girl’s not in her saddle for more than a few minutes before she’s hissing, and the place where her leg pulls away from short silver fur is red.

“I thought I could twist it,” Ruby humphs a few minutes later, back to standing and keeping her leg as still as possible, “But it keeps rubbing up against her side and making it itch. Blake, how are you at riding?”

Blake starts. Yes, the smartest idea would be having the extra person ride the riderless horse, but Ruby can’t be suggesting leaving _her_ horse in her care. She looks at Yang, waiting for her to but in and tell Ruby that it’s not “Safe.” Instead, Yang nods and cocks her head in Blake’s direction, awaiting an answer.

“I uh, I mean… Are you sure?” She looks at Yang again, a bit more challenging this time. “You’d just give the thief that’s been tailing your for days permission to ride on your horse?”

The sisters exchange a look, and once again it feels like an entire conversation passes between them in a glance. Yang looks down first, her boot scuffing the forest floor, but Ruby’s less subtle. Her eyes roll and her hand is warm where it grasps Blake’s wrist.

“No, not the thief that’s been tailing us for days.” She says, “The girl who helped me when I fell, who already had a dozen chances to take our stuff and run, and came back with medicine instead. I’m asking Blake, my friend.”

“Sheesh, Ruby.” Yang says, her sentiment mirrored in the redness that takes Blake’s cheeks. The sheer amount of kindness in those words is almost enough to do her in, but she manages to offer a wordless smile in response. Inside, she’s still wrapping her head around the realization that Ruby’s right, that she _had_ been alone with the horse, and it had never once occurred to her to run.

Yang doesn’t say more, but she makes no effort to denounce anything her sister says. She’s still got the look of someone who has more thoughts to share, but in the wake of Ruby’s words she doesn’t put a voice to any of them. Blake realizes then that they’re still waiting for an answer, and also that the sun is growing high overhead, and that Ruby’s starting to tremble somewhat from the effort of standing. Blake dips her head.

“I’m not an expert, but my mom owned some horses at our winter home. I’ve had lessons.”

Ruby grins, and Yang’s eyebrows jump at words like “owned horses,” and “winter home.”

“Great, then we can get back on the road!” Ruby says, grinning. “Isn’t it great we ran into someone who could help us like this, Yang?”

The over-the-top bid for Yang’s approval doesn’t go unnoticed by either of them, and the plainly written smugness on Ruby’s face drives home the point. _You’re wrong,_ she’s saying. _And Yang will tell you so._

Sure enough, it takes Yang almost no time to answer, her brusque defensiveness thinned to nonexistence. “I mean, yeah?”

“Then why doesn’t she-” And then Yang’s hands are around Ruby’s waist, hoisting her upwards while Ruby squeaks indignantly.

_We know, Ruby._ Blake wants to say as she steadies herself atop Silver Bullet. The horse eyes her curiously, but shows no protest as Blake familiarizes herself with the stirrups and reins. She appreciates letting the bygones be bygones. In front of her, Ruby and Yang’s heads are pressed close in quiet conversation. Blake can almost hear the words, but not quite. _But for as much as you think I deserve kindness, your sister still deserves answers._

Yang gives the order, and slowly the three of them begin to move forward again, tepidly, as Blake works on finding her footing. _And if I tell her what she can’t understand…_ Blake’s chest squeezes, suddenly her hands are clammy around the reins. Silver Bullet snorts in distaste, and Blake forces herself to relax as best she can. _Well, I can’t say it’s worth taking the chance._


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a big one! we're starting to get things moving now, i'm excited. jsyk, chapter four is already written (and. oof.) but i really want to get it right so it might not be out entirely too soon. ch 5 is well on its way to being written, and I'm really starting to get excited, seeing certain events start their buildup. i hope you guys like this kind of thing, i know i'm having a good time.

It’s a rocky start as Ruby, Yang, and Blake work their way through the overcrowded wood, but the map they follow doesn’t lead them astray forever. Soon Ruby is warning them of a slope they’re approaching, and what looks to be a decent amount of well-travelled flatland below. For Blake, the relief comes mostly from no longer having to lead a skittery horse through dangerous terrain. Yang though, is excited for a different reason.

“I think that sounds familiar,” she says. Blake can just see her hooking her chin over Ruby’s shoulder, peeking at the corner of the map Ruby’s got unfolded. “Is that the place with the Dragon Rocks?”

“No, Dragon Rocks are later, this is Lake Tortisch, with the falls.” Ruby says, and Yang  _ hmphs _ in distaste. Blake gives the sides of her horse a gentle squeeze, just hard enough so Silver Bullet pulls up a few feet closer to Bumble.

“So you’ve been this way before?” She asks, and two heads swivel in her direction at once. She’d been quiet these last couple of hours, focused mostly on remembering the riding lessons she’d taken maybe four times back in Menagerie. As the terrain smooths out though, and the only sounds Blake can hear is the light chatter between the sisters up front, she finds herself hurting for conversation.

“Oh, yeah!” Ruby says, perking up at the question.

“Plenty of times,” Yang elaborates, “But it was years ago now.”

“Really,” Blake asks, her ears perking in interest. “No offense, but you don’t exactly look like the travelling type. You’re pretty clean, for one.”

“Yeah, well we were kids at the time.” Yang says. “And it was a way bigger deal. More people, more horses, lots of dogs.”

Blake tries not to let judgement read on her face. She says, “Sounds hectic.”

“It really was,” Yang laughs, voice growing warmer as she speaks. “It was this whole… So, okay, our dad raises horses. Really good ones.” She reaches down to pat Bumble’s side proudly. Half twisted around in her saddle, Yang looks more cheerful and at ease than Blake’s seen her so far. It’s a welcome sight. 

“And so once a year,” she continues, “Family and friends would all come together, and we’d round up all the yearlings he’d marked for sale. Ten, fifteen, sometimes even more colts and fillies. And according to dad and all his lived experience, the best way to test their mettle and sell them for top dollar was to put them through a days long migration across Vale, our path plotted by dad and Summer, Ruby’s mom, and with the help of our uncles, aunts, and their friends who sometimes came along just to say they’d went.”

Yang’s eyes are shining, hands gripping and twisting the reins. In front of her, Ruby’s eyes are closed and her expression soft, caught up in her thoughts.

“Wow.” Blake says.

“Wow is right, it was crazy.” Yang says, “There was nothing else like it. You had a circle of yearlings, simultaneously nervous but impatient to stretch their legs on the open road. Then you had Dad and the other adults keeping an eye on them from the sides. There were always at _least_ four dogs, and for miles the only thing you’d hear was hoofbeats and the whistles from flankers letting each other know where to go next.”

“That sounds incredible,” - _ y dangerous,  _ Blake thinks, but it at least lends her some clues as to how the two could be so excited to be out on their own, so willing to take on threats and dangers that keep most at bay. It must be less scary when these are paths and trails they’d walked on before, and whatever fear is left over has to be worth it if it means grasping just a shred of the happiness they’d felt back then. In a way, she can relate. 

Still, Blake finds herself compelled to add, “But not exactly a place for children.”

Ruby chuckles, and Yang waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, we were fine.” She says. “They had to carry some stuff they needed for Taleri in a wagon, they just plopped us on top of the pile.”

Blake’s eyes go wide, Yang laughs and shakes her head. “Nah, we had places to sit. But we did try to climb on top of it later, when we got bored.”

“Until mom lost her patience and yelled at us,” Ruby pipes up. “Then we had to sit up front with her. But the best part was always at night, when circles of tents were set up in a big empty field, the moon like a silver dollar, big and close as it’s ever felt. Then someone would break out a guitar, maybe a harmonica, and everyone else would sing along to whatever they played.”

Ruby starts speaking faster as the memory comes to life in her mind, “And when clapping along wasn’t enough, Dad would get up and he’d grab mom’s hands, and he’d pull her up to her feet until they were twirling together by the fire, moving with the wind. Soon everyone joined in,  and while you were dancing a big gust of wind would almost knock you off your feet. And then, fighting to stay up, the world would feel so big and endless, and so full of promise. And you were in the middle of it, and you felt  _ alive. _ ”

Blake says nothing, only because she doesn’t have the words. Ruby’s stare is a million miles away, and she doesn’t seem to notice how far she’s gone until Yang wraps her arms around her and gives a tight squeeze. Blake can’t see their faces, can’t hear the small exchange of words they have in the moment. She does hear Ruby brave a single sniffle before her breathing evens. Physically, she gives her head a small nod and squares her shoulders. Out loud, her voice is less steady as she says, “So yeah, it was a good time.”

“Sounds like it,” Blake breathes. “But that’s not what you’re doing out here now.”

Yang sees the out and takes it, voice too bright as she says, “Uh nope, not exactly. Once they finished building the cross-continental train it was  _ way _ cheaper to get across that way. But then there was some… family trouble later on. After that we stopped getting everyone together, and the tradition kind of petered out.”

Blake nods. She’s stuck on the words ‘family trouble’ and thinks of Ruby’s words, her whimpers. Her chest squeezes.

“Until earlier this year!” Yang continues, “We’d always talked about doing it again, one last big ride, but it always just kind of stayed an idea, something that sounded fun but we never had the time or the resources to do. ‘Til our uncle came through for us, at least.”

“Yep,” Ruby adds, presence back in her voice. “He got word that  _ Weiss Schnee  _ is doing a performance at a big theater in the city. And he knows I’m  _ kind of  _ a fan,”

“Ruby’s been obsessed with her ever since she caught a performance in Mistral last year.” Yang adds, possibly just to grin at how red the younger girl’s face gets when she says it.

“She’s an  _ incredible  _ fencer!” Ruby says, voice unable to find the balance between raw admiration and feigned nonchalance.  “Everything she does,” Ruby swings out her arm in an arc, flicking her wrist, “Has to be perfect and precise so that she lands the  _ exact  _ right blow at the same time.” Another pose, “And you can tell how much she’s focusing because there are times when she pauses mid-step and starts  _ singing,  _ it’s-!”

Ruby carries on steadily, and Blake nods and “Mm-hmm,”’s along as best she can. The girl’s attention turns fully to singing the praises of her idol, but Yang goes quiet after her initial comment. She stays that way for a while, until a particularly strong breeze rolls across the trees that has Yang tilting her head back in delight. And as her hair falls away from her face Blake can see that her mind is far off, lost in a memory.

 

Following the entirely-too-terrifying ordeal of leading a horse down a steep slope, the landscape smooths out and so does the riding. The horses are glad to be free of the crowded terrain, and soon any thoughts that aren’t,  _ “Ruby really knew what she was doing when she named this horse _ ,” are gone.

It isn’t much later that the horizon starts to get dotted with more and more pillars of smoke in the distance, as the wilderness gives way to small patches of civilization. They steer the horses down clear, well-trodden paths and begin crossing small homesteads as they do. It’s a welcome sight for all of them, and despite everything, Blake finds herself looking forward to the cluster of buildings up ahead that mark the city of Kipsee. Uncertainty clouds so much of her future, but for now she’s been talked into a hot meal and a hotter bath afterwards, and she cannot wait. Finally, a chance to relax.

At least, until a new set of trotting hooves comes up the road behind them, and the rider introduces himself with a scathingly coy, “Here, kitty, kitty.”

Blake’s body tenses, a series of responses all hitting her at once. The first is to turn around, tell this guy exactly who he’s allowed to call “Kitty,” and maybe introduce him to the knife tucked in her belt. The next idea is to dig her heels into Silver Bullet’s side and bolt, because anyone around here looking to start trouble with faunus aren’t to be trusted, especially ones who sound like  _ him.  _ Finally, the instinct she’s most used to kicks in and her chin tilts up, her eyes go forward. He’s simply not worth her time.

The sisters do not handle their responses with the same thought process or grace. Both of them whip around in the saddle, voices raised as they respond.

“Hey!” Ruby shouts, at the same time Yang goes, “Woah, woah-!”

The rider’s lip curls, out of distaste for Blake or the sister’s reactions she doesn’t know. He gets closer now, too close, and Blake gives in to the desire to kick Silver Bullet’s speed up just a bit.

“You better be careful,” He calls, picking up speed as well. He’s seen that he can get a rise out of them, and just as fast that becomes what this is about. “If you don’t put collars on your pets, they could get stolen away by _ bad people _ .”

“Oh, get out of here!” Yang yells to him, swerving Bumble in his direction enough to make it look like she might try something. With Ruby and so close and in the condition she’s in, Blake knows Yang won’t do anything too dangerous, but the stranger doesn’t.

“What’s next, girls?” He says, yanking his horse away from the draft horse, ”Being best friends with the class hamster? Marrying your dog? Get your heads-”

“She said to  _ GET-”  _ Ruby shouts, so much venom in her voice that even Bumble stumbles. The resulting misstep must do something to Ruby’s leg because her voice goes even sharper and angrier a beat later, “ _ AWAY.” _

And then the younger girl is definitely reaching for her side and whatever she’s got concealed beneath her tucked-in shirt, but the stranger cuts his losses before she can complete the motion. He kicks his horse into a full gallop, hollering punitives behind him until he’s swallowed up by distance. Blake lets out a slow, slow breath, and tries to unclench her jaw.

“Yeah, keep going asshole!” Yang calls after him, waving her fist in an open threat. She leans over the check the state of Ruby’s leg, but Ruby’s only focused on twisting around to look at Blake, horrified.

“Blake, I am so-”

“We need to stop.” Blake says, pulling back on Silver Bullet’s reins. Ruby’s eyes go wide and she’s about to protest, but Blake just swerves her horse to the side of the road, fiddling with her pockets.

“No, Blake, please don’t,”

“Blake, wait-”

Both of their voiced concerns are sweet, and do the job of leading Blake away from her anxiety and back on the path back towards level headedness. She smiles, saying, “It’s okay. I just need to fix this.” And she produces the long, thin ribbon she’d pocketed earlier. 

They relax, and Yang guides Bumble just in front of Blake so they’re slightly more shielded from prying eyes. Blake’s hands go through motions she’s been practicing for years, though it’d only been recently that she’d gone back to the childhood pastime of hiding her ears underneath the bow. 

When she was younger, the bows would be heavy and large, dyed in bright golds or verdant greens, set behind her ears as a way to frame them and draw the eye. As a kid, she’d occasionally fight oncoming boredom by poking her ears underneath the ceremonial clothing until they were invisible, and she’d turn to her friends, giggling, “Look, I’m human!”

But when her parents had caught her in the act they were nowhere near as amused, and sentenced her to years of interrupting other arguments to bring up how important it was to  _ cherish  _ their blessed additions, not to  _ hide themselves away. _

_ Well, here I am now.  _ She thinks, giving her ears a cursory flick to make sure it’s not too tight a fit. It’s uncomfortable of course, covering parts of her that are necessary for everyday interactions, but it’s better than getting spotted and targeted by anyone with a few spare insults, or worse, to hurl. 

“You shouldn’t have to do this,” Ruby seethes, eyes still on the road like she’s willing the man to come back just so she can yell at him some more. “There is no reason for you to hide who you are.”

Blake just nods, trying to enjoy the platitudes without telling her she  _ knows,  _ she’s  _ lived it. _

“It’s good that people like you think that.” Blake says, remembering a thousand conversations her mother had gone through with frustrated guests who knew of her support for the White Fang, all that go the same way. “Every open mind is a step towards a better future.”

Blake smooths out her hair as best she can and gets comfortable in the saddle. Her body is grateful for the break from being on her legs non-stop, but the pain in her thighs from an afternoon’s travel is a whole new, if much more bearable, discomfort. 

“Still wish I could go after that guy and give him second thoughts about pulling another stunt like that.” Yang grumbles, eyes swiveling back and forth to check for anyone else who might be coming. Luckily the road is empty for now. 

“Don’t we all.” Blake sighs. There’s a bunch lectures she’s heard about that one too. It feels like going through one of Weiss Schnee’s well-practiced motions to say, “But one-on-one vendettas aren’t useful in the long term. It’s better to change the world around people like that, rather than waste energy on a single person alone.”

“Huh,” Ruby breathes.

Yang looks surprised as well, but curiosity lingers in her gaze. “Well said. Is everyone from Menagerie this educated?”

_ What’s that question mean? What’s she implying? What does she know? _ Blake’s stomach flip-flops as she tries to casually formulate an answer. She’s still rattled from the stranger’s hostility, and is also beginning to tire of only enjoying Yang and Ruby’s company only as long as they never, ever talk about herself.

“I wish,” She says. “But faunus rights are something I and friends have an… investment in. You know, being faunus.”

“Oh sure, sure.” Yang replies. She’s still got unanswered questions in her ribcage, Blake can almost hear them, but both girls seem content to let them pile up with her others for now. She says, “Ready to go?”

“Please.” Blake says, fixing the last pieces of hair around the ribbon. “I’m very ready to rest my legs on furniture instead of a horse.”

“Don’t listen to her, Silver,” Ruby cuts in, “You’re plenty comfortable.”

Yang gives Bumble the instruction to get moving. Blake follows close behind while Ruby jokingly scolds her, demanding she apologize to the horse. Blake plays along, but it’s difficult when her attention is still on Yang, and distracted by whatever pieces she might have begun to put together. 

 

One of the sisters had described Kipsee as a small farm town, but that’s hardly what they find at the end of their journey. Rows of buildings fill Blake’s vision as far as she can see, and outside of them are people by the dozens, on horses or in carts or weaving in-between. The air is filled with the sounds of activity and life, a stark contrast to the quiet of the last couple of days. It’s its own kind of stressful, but a kind Blake will take in exchange for the respite. 

“Wow, this place really got big, huh?” Yang asks, leading them towards one of the less populated roads in search of a place to sit and adjust.

“They weren’t kidding when they said the train was gonna change everything.” Ruby muses. 

“Well with this many people, hopefully there’s a decent enough doctor too. That’s where we should head first.” Yang says, leading the way.

After a quick stop in for directions and a snack the general store, the trio navigate through the town until they find a building marked by a wooden sign out front featuring a stethoscope intersecting a needle mid-injection. Ruby tries to delay the trip, tries to say that her leg hardly even hurts now, but Yang won’t hear a word of it. She dismounts her horse, then helps a stone-faced younger sister down as well.

“And as for you,” Yang says, turning to Blake with a disarming smile. “Go and get yourself something to eat. There’s a place down the street that should have something good and filling, and then Ruby and I will join you there once we’re done. Is that okay? We have something we want to talk to you about.”

Yang reaches out a hand and doesn’t give Blake a chance to refuse before the small stack of lien is in her palm. Blake nods. “Sounds good.”

She’d had no intention of refusing. This doesn’t feel like a pitious gesture, and it doesn’t feel like payment. There’s something in the air between them now, something that had filtered in after Blake had jumped up to help Ruby. Blake envisions the tiniest sprout, just breaking cover over soil to reach for the sun, finally free off the enclosing, dark, hungry grip of the earth.

Something inside her muses darkly about what would happen if that “talk” turned out to be a bad thing, like Yang telling Blake to have a nice life and that she’ll see her whenever.  But as they part ways, Ruby walking stiff-legged into the front of the building and Yang blocking the door behind her, giving a thumbs-up behind her back, she gets the distinct impression that that’s not what is going to happen.

 

The eatery Yang had directed Blake to is a small, cozy building tucked in-between two larger ones, and mostly easily discovered by following the smell of coffee and the crackle of frying fat. The sensations only get stronger as Blake walks in, and at the sight of the few other patrons there, and specifically the food on their plates, she almost has to walk back out so her stomach doesn’t cave in.

But she manages to find an empty table, collapsing into one of the four chairs while trying to make it look on purpose. It doesn’t take long for one of the servers to take note of the sickly gaunt girl at an empty table, and soon is at her side.

Minutes later, Blake’s staring down a plate of food she would have dreamt about stealing off the plate days ago. Fast-fried eggs and grease-slick bacon “fresh from this morning,” according to her server, along with two thick slices of bread that still faintly steam under a sheen of melted butter. Her stomach is aching at the sight, and it doesn’t hit her how _relieved_ she is until her waitress plinks a small white cup on to an even smaller saucer, two packets of tea leaves beside it. 

When was the last time she even had tea? Did she have any on the boat? She can hardly remember, the best parts of the trip feel like months ago. Of course, the rougher details around what happened still feel fresh, close to the surface like the sea spray dashing across her skin.

Blake doesn’t waste any more time considering the past, not when the food in front of her smells this good. She gives her waitress the most polite smile and nod she can muster before stabbing one of the eggs through its bright yellow yolk, and then stuffing as much of it into her mouth as she can.

The rest of the meal goes down slower, and by the end of it Blake is feeling good. Her body is better rested than it’s been in days, and is delighted (if also pained,) to have an almost continuous food source. She’s closer to the Taleri docks than she’s ever been, and now seeing the sun-reaching trees and vibrant flowers of her home doesn’t feel like an impossible dream. 

And then… Well, that’s the thing, isn’t it? The great unanswered question, the demon at the other end of her nightmare. She doesn’t want to think about it, but it’s becoming more and more difficult to ignore.

But- she’s scaring herself. The longer she lets her brain toss around ideas about the worst thing that could happen, the more she has to remind herself that it’s  _ days  _ away. She doesn’t need to be afraid, not right now, not yet.

Until she does.

It starts with the fluttering of paper, the noise only catching Blake’s attention because it means someone had taken the table closest to hers. It doesn’t help that the entirety of the restaurant is fairly compact, and thanks to that the tables are fairly close together. She’d made an effort to pick a seat that was decently far away from everyone else out of instinct, and now having someone not Yang or Ruby so close is making the muscles in her jaw clench.

She turns to take a fast peek at the stranger beside her, and sees him to be an unremarkable man dressed in work clothes, coffee to one side of him, a newspaper pulled up covering most of his face. Blake’s just about to turn away, maybe pay her bill and get out of the enclosed space, but before she can, a familiar face catches her attention.

The photo is a poor copy, black on top of white with no room for depth or shadow, but still unmistakable to Blake, as it’s the same face she looks at every morning in the parlor room mirror. Beside the photo is written, 

_ “ROGUE DAUGHTER OF MENAGERIE CHIEFTAIN BELLADONNA ON THE LOOSE.” _

Her blood freezes. The floral tea in her mouth sours, and carves an angry path through her numb body as she swallows. She tries to read further but the man beside her folds the paper in two, and Blake is left to snap her attention away, pushing her empty plate and cup away from her lap as she moves to stand. Doing so garners the attention of her waitress, who begins making her way over towards Blake’s table.

She’s trying not to panic, shelling out more than enough lien to cover her meal on the table before moving sideways along the length of the room. Her waitress tries to speak with her, one hand in the air and voice raised as she calls, “Miss, miss?” But Blake pays her no mind.

_ She was so close to me, did she see something? Where was she when that man came close? There’s no way my ear didn’t twitch when I heard him. Did she realize, do they all? _

At the last second, she sees another person, similar filthy work clothes, similar cup of coffee, sat by the window. His newspaper is neatly folded at the edge of his table, and he’s in the middle of a bite of food when Blake snatches it off the table on makes for the door.

She’d been hoping the outside air would help lessen the pressure in her head, but it just smells like horses and mud and unwashed men. Trying hard to look nonchalant she weaves through throngs of bodies, now terrified that any one of them could go, “Well,  _ that  _ seems familiar.”

Finally she reaches the place where they’d left the horses, the single piece of familiarity Blake has to keep her calm. She’s starkly aware of how little comfort Bumble should bring her, but the horse pays no mind to Blake using her for support, leaning on her stable body as she unfolds her newspaper with trembling hands.

_ “May 9th, Dolse County, Marmouth. Trouble gathered outside the home of Mayor Steele Cooper on May 9th as he welcomed Chieftain and Clergyman Belladonna to Vale after resorting to foreign medical practices in an effort to aid his youngest son. What was planned to be a small reception party was preemptively shut down after the Belladonna’s failed to produce the amount of medicinal stock they’d agreed to, shortly after running into trouble with a small gang of local troublemakers who align themselves with the faunus rights collective known as The White Fang.  _

_ The next day as the High Clergymen Belladonna arrived at Mayor Cooper’s home to begin treating the sick child, he found himself facing more trouble, as a crowd packed tight with faunus protestors continued their assault, _

Blake’s breath catches.  _ Faunus protestors? That’s not-  _

The paper goes on, and as it does Blake’s fists grow tighter and tighter around the paper, until she can feel it tearing, until she’s fully aware that once she lets go, a good portion of what she’s holding together will fall apart.

_ “Ghira and Kali Belladonna are desperate to hear any news from their daughter, who they posture was taken briefly before docking in Marmouth, but was later allegedly seen engaged at the very protest held for her family members held the following day. Whether it was the young Belladonna attending at the time is unsure, as conflicting reports have come in regarding the individual’s true identity, their involvement in the protest, including the violent outburst that occurred shortly before police arrived. _

_ One present for the events claims the Belladonna daughter assaulted him herself, while another disputes that his attacker had been human, and what has been claimed to have been notable faunus traits had simply been an unfortunate illusion due to her attire. _

_ The Belladonnas are first and foremost concerned with the safe retrieval of their daughter while they continue to stay in Vale until their Intercontinental Travel Passes expire on May 19th. A reward is being offered for any information about Blake Belladonna’s whereabouts or... _

“They think I showed up to protest my parents? What...”

Blake can’t read anymore, and it’s hard to do when her body won’t stop shaking. She’d been trying so hard to keep it away, keep everything that happened at arm’s length because as soon as she starts to think about it, it starts getting difficult to breathe. And now  _ everyone  _ knows, it’s out there for them all, her somber face staring down every stranger reading her warped, skewed memories off the page.

_ I have to go. _

It’s instinct, right? Fight or flight? Stay and face the trouble bearing down on you, or try and outrun it and live without the pain for another day. Suddenly, Blake’s back exactly where she started, alone, singled out, terrified. And it’s so easy to think back to Yang and Ruby talking about their path, where they were going next, the safest way to the port city.

_ Why are you even going, it’s not going to- _

_ Shut up! _

Then she’s turning away, scanning for the direction they’d come in from, and there’s a noise behind her.

“Blake?”

_ Oh, please no. _

Yang’s watching her from atop the small staircase that leads into the doctor’s building, eyebrows bunched in concern. “Are you okay?”

_ I can’t be here when she learns. When she realizes. _

“Yang, thank you so much.” She says, taking one step back. Yang’s eyes widen. “You and Ruby were more help than I ever could have asked for. Know that, okay?”

“Blake, what are you doing?” Yang’s voice is tense, she already knows the answer to her question. She dares a step forward and Blake takes two more backwards, shaking her head. 

Blake can hear the jeering of the town, memories haunting her like ghosts. She hears, “You better put a  _ collar  _ on your  _ pets,”  _ and she hears Yang’s voice, far away and unfamiliar. “Yeah, I know right?”

_ I can’t see her face when she learns she was right. _

She turns on her heel and she runs. It’s not hard to hear Yang start to give chase, calling Blake’s name in a combination of confusion and fear. Blake doesn’t look back, and in the time it takes her to turn the corner, the sound of footsteps behind her is gone.

Blake tries not to let it gut her. She has no intention of going back, but she’d really thought Yang would give more chase. Maybe she didn’t feel the need to, not with Ruby missing from her side. Maybe that’s all it ever was, with Yang only playing along to support her sister’s idea. 

_ But then what about that first night?  _ She doesn’t want to think about it. She pushes the haggard worry back with the rest of them, behind a door that’s starting to strain on its hinges. She’s at the wide sign marking the separation of city and wilderness when the rapidly approaching footfalls return.

“Blake, Blake!”

She  _ still  _ can’t decide, can she? How did she check in with Ruby so fast?

“Yang, I have to  _ go. _ “ Blake hisses, whirling around with a glare. Yang closes the last few yards of distance between them until she’s caught up, still looking perplexed and frenzied, but with her hands now full.

“You don’t.” Yang says. Yang has the  _ gall  _ to say. Blake just watches her through a cold squint, and Yang continues. “I know how I’ve been behaving… I realize how this all sounds. But Ruby and I have been talking and,”

“I don’t have time for this, not again.” Blake groans. “Tell Ruby I said goodbye.”

“Then just-!” Yang’s frustrated now, tensing further as she feels Blake’s patience wearing thin, “If that’s how it has to be, at least take these.”

She holds out her hand, a canteen in her grip, beneath a paper that’s been folded many times over. A closer look reveals it to be a map, marked to have been printed the year before. Blake takes them without hesitation, and she tells herself it’s to end the interaction quickly, and not at all that if she thinks about this for another second, it might not be worth the risk.

She takes one last look at Yang, grateful that her final memory of the girl will be so different from the first time they’d met. She deeply, deeply means it when she says,  “Thank you.” And then she’s turning the other way and heading for the treeline as quickly as her legs can move. And then she’s gone.

 

* * *

“Yang, you have to get going! Every second you’re not going after her, she’s getting further away!”

Ruby’s voice is tight with worry from where she sits on the small bed beside the hotel window. She looks well sitting there, clothes changed while Yang’s got their travel wear prepared for washing, polishing off an apple that they’d snagged as they came in, leg propped up and bandaged. Yang hadn’t told Ruby what had happened right away, choosing to keep the words banging against her teeth until she’d gone through the motions of settling her in without being relentlessly attacked with demands for her to leave.

Sure enough, as soon as relayed the news, voice steady and with a copy of The Daily Kip in hand, Ruby’s face had fallen.

“How could you let her  _ do  _ this?” Ruby asks for the millionth time as Yang unpacks enough food to keep Ruby comfortable through the night. “You could have stopped her from going, she couldn’t outfight you!”

_ Don’t be so sure,  _ Yang thinks, remembering the way a cornered Blake had looked, fearful, but but not helpless.  _ She knows a lot more than we think. _

Neither of them had known what to make of the article in the paper, which clearly hadn’t decided whether it wanted to indict or rescue her, and felt more like a warning than a plea for a lost child to come home. Truth be told, part of Yang had wondered if this mysterious faunus could be related to the riots she’d heard about back before, but she never had enough reason to believe. Now though...

Ruby, on the other hand, denied as much of it as she could, never outright saying she thought Blake was innocent, but insisting again and again that Blake surely had her reasons. She repeated again and again that there was an entire side to the story they didn’t know. Demanded, “How could you ever be sure without asking her?”

“I  _ did _ ask her,” Yang snaps, “And every time she gave me an excuse about how whatever she did wasn’t “that bad.”

“That’s good!” Ruby says. “That means there’s more to this than we know, and even more reason to get her back. We can’t leave her out there to die, Yang. She can’t make it to Taleri on her own. What if someone else finds her? What if they’re like that guy from earlier?”

“I’m going after her, Ruby.” Yang sighs. “And I’m gonna try to talk her down. But I can’t make her come back with me, I can only give her the offer.”

“Maybe she wouldn’t have ran if you’d given her the offer sooner.”

Yang bites the inside of her lip to keep from getting too angry. She doesn’t want to have this argument again, they’ve gone through it so much they’ve run circles into the ground. She takes in a deep breath, slow and steady so that the next time she speaks she’s not yelling. 

“What are you gonna do if she doesn’t come back with me?” Yang asks. A hurt look flashes across Ruby’s eyes for just a second -she hadn’t even considered that- and she shakes her head. 

“We’ll deal with that if it comes to it. But it won’t.”

Yang shrugs. She just won’t hear it. “Okay.”

She heads for the door, doing a quick once-over to make sure she’s got everything she needs on her person. The spare canteen is filled, and the second map she’d gone and bought is tucked tight in her rear pocket. Both bedrolls have been tied to Bumble’s saddle, along with a few portions of food. She faces Ruby before she heads out. “Do you want me to check with the staff, see if they have any books on-hand, puzzles or games? I might be out for a while.”

Ruby’s expression flickers, and Yang is reminded of the moment she sees a horse’s posture shift while she’s cleaning its shoes, the second she realizes something is wrong followed immediately by getting out of the way to avoid the oncoming blow. Ruby’s voice is hoarse, and no doubt reaches outside of her room and across the building as she breaks.

“No I don’t  _ need  _ anything! You need to get going! Why do you keep  _ DOING this?!” _

And a second later, every bit the fifteen year-old she is, Ruby’s sobbing. Yang drops everything and moves closer, which only makes her more upset. And on top of it all Ruby looks mortified at her own anger, like she can’t believe it’s finally exploding outwards.

“Doing what? What’s wrong?”

Yang tries to feel for her sister. There are so many things going on, so much that has the young girl stretched to her limits. Travel itself is taxing, and having only one other person to lean on has been hard for both of them. Then there’s the accident that still causes her to wince as she moves every now and again. On top of that is Blake, or the lack of her in this case, which has more than done the job of putting Ruby over the edge. She buries her face in the hotel pillow, muffling the sound of rapidly increasing sobs.

“You’re what’s wrong!” She says when she finally lifts her head, tears and snot on top of a red, red face. “You’re doing everything you can to ruin this trip for me!”

And then everything she’s saying snaps into place, and it doesn’t matter how many deep breaths Yang takes, the fuse is lit.

“How could you say that? I’m doing everything I can to  _ keep you safe! _ ”

“Exactly!” Ruby points an accusing finger. “You’re obsessed with treating me like a baby! I can’t have fun at all if you’re hovering around me like I’m a doll made of glass!”

“I can’t believe you’re saying this.” Yang says, staring. The back of her throat is starting to tighten up and her eyes are stinging, anger flooding her body so hard she has to grasp a support beam just so she doesn’t take something from the wall and throw it. “That you’re pretending like you don’t know why-”

“I know why!” Ruby says, and this booms out of her chest like an admission of guilt, her arms tightening around the pillow. She takes another small breath and repeats, “I know why. But if it weren’t for me, you never would have been so nervous around Blake, and she wouldn’t have thought that you hated her, and she would have stayed.”

“It is  _ not  _ that simple.” Yang fires back. “I am  _ not  _ sorry for being tough on the  _ thief  _ that followed us around for  _ days  _ stealing our food. It had nothing to do with you.”

“Liar!” Ruby barks alongside another sob. “You know as well as I do she needed help. You would have never let her stay the night if you thought she was dangerous. You wanted to help her this whole time, but you were too afraid about letting your guard down and it chased her off!”

She’s right. Not entirely, Yang still thinks there’s an amount of hesitance that’s fair to show towards a person in Blake’s situation, but that should have been gone by the end of the morning. She’s got counterarguments to make about plenty of what Ruby said, but none of it is what they’re really fighting about.

“I can’t let myself lose you, Ruby.” Yang says. She doesn’t know if she wants to start sobbing or punching, neither are preferable in her current state. “I can’t be 0 for 3.”

“You can’t let that stop you.” Ruby whimpers, her sobs weakening from full-body wracking to just shoulder-shaking. “That can’t be the only thing that’s on your mind, even now.”

“It’s not that easy.” Yang says. Her face is tight, and one after another she can feel tears sliding down her cheeks, but for the most part she’s keeping it together. “I can’t stop thinking about Summer, how badly she wanted to do this one more time because she knew how happy it made us. I want so badly to do right by that memory… But every time I try and have a good time, I start thinking about what would happen if something- When that horse tossed you, I thought it was over. My heart almost stopped. And I felt so, so stupid for trying to do this alone.”

“We weren’t alone.” Ruby says. She reaches out from her position on the bed and give Yang’s arm a tug, pulling her closer until they’re locked together, tight. “We had help. And you would have seen that if you’d just relax, and stop making bigger and bigger monsters in your head that you have to fight.”

Yang squeezes her, grateful now as much as ever to have a little sister to squeeze and yell at and annoy. They stay like that for a while, Yang’s hand cradling the back of Ruby’s head as their breathing settles and slows.

“Find her.” Ruby says when they finally pull away. “If you show her the real Yang, not the super-paranoid-about-keeping-Ruby-safe Yang, I know she’ll come back.”

Yang wicks the last of the tears out of her eyes, letting out one last shaky breath. It feels like someone’s pulled the drain on the room, and days worth of stress and arguments have finally spiraled and drained out. Her head feels clearer now, and it’s easier to face the door and imagine what will happen when she steps out of it. Instead of dire failure, she realizes how much she’s looking forward to Bumble’s stability, and a long, quiet ride to parse out her thoughts. And, not that she tells Ruby, but it is comforting that her hurt sister is inside four walls, safe and dry. 

“I’ll do my best.” Yang says, giving Ruby a final nod. Her hand’s on the doorknob when Ruby speaks again, sheepishly.

“Um, Yang?” She says.

“I love you too, Ruby.” Yang replies. She opens the door.

“That’s nice, but can you actually check to see if they have any books? I’m already kind of bored.”

  
  


It’s no time at all before Yang is back on the trail. She and Ruby had only discussed vague details of the road ahead of them, but considering Blake’s ever perked, curious ears, she has a feeling the girl had picked up what she needed to know. What she lacked, Yang just has to assume she’s making up for in gusto, as though she can will herself to reach Taleri just by wanting it.

For a long while Yang rides for distance, doing her best to mimic Blake’s strategy, which had seemed to be putting as much space between herself and anyone else as possible. She’d been so frantic, it was obvious she wasn’t acting on anything but adrenaline, fear, and Yang keeps that in mind as she navigates Bumble around a large bend in the trail, no doubt one that Blake had gone over in order to save time.

It’s all Yang can imagine. All she sees when she thinks about Blake is a tired, frenzied girl throwing herself at the open road, running until her legs won’t move, and dragging herself the rest of the way. Because Yang had scared her off. Maybe that would have been overdramatic earlier, Yang thinks, but at this point she doesn’t know what else to expect. 

And though her eyes remain peeled for any sight of Blake, it’s impossible to keep her mind from drifting to Ruby. She’d figured that her sister might not be entirely happy with how safe Yang was playing it, but that had to make sense, right? She didn’t have to spell out why she’d rather  _ not  _ let Ruby wade deeper into a river without knowing how fast the current ran. She has no problem with it at home, because she knows dad or the town doctor is ten minutes away on horseback. Here, in the untamed continental wilds, the rules are a bit more strict.

And Ruby doesn’t know -Yang has worked very hard to make sure Ruby doesn’t know- about the old days, about the aftermath of Summer’s death. Yang’s step-mother’s tragic falling had affected all of them differently, with her father withdrawing from the world, barely scraping by and leaving Yang to try and pick up the pieces. When she couldn’t do that on her own, keep the world turning for everyone, she resigned to just protecting Ruby. Ruby, who even then had put on her bravest face, though she could never keep it together for quite as long.

In contrast with their father, Ruby threw herself tirelessly into everything she did, occupying every moment of her waking hours so that she only had time to cry in her sleep. Yang found herself behind Ruby every step of the way, using all of her extra energy to keep her sister afloat.

Where Summer was missing Yang was there, whether it be reminding her to eat, to bathe, to change. At first it was just to help, because she was a good sister and that’s what good sisters did. And then she was never entirely sure when it started going too far, when making sure Ruby was safe went from a natural urge to her only way to cope.

It didn’t last forever, the hollow phase where Yang gracelessly danced in the footsteps of the person she’d loved and lost. Eventually the light returned to her father’s eyes and Ruby’s nightmares faded. Chores went back to being done instead of being stacked in the corner, food stopped being the same three dishes Yang could make with the four things in their pantry, and it wasn’t long before Ruby was once again taking time to stop and smell the roses.

But seeing Ruby’s vigor return to her presented Yang with a new fearful reality, that her little sister was going right back out into the world, and there was little Yang could do to keep that world from snatching her away too soon. 

Yang had fought with herself, talked herself in circles, and made a couple of months of Ruby’s days hell during a phase when her life was plagued with awful, never-ending thoughts about what  _ could  _ be happening to her if Yang didn’t hang around. Yang thinks her dad had picked up on what was happening before then, but when Ruby had moved to the guest room and tacked a piece of ledger paper to the door reading “ _ NO SISTERS ALLOWED,”  _ he’d sat her down and had a talk. 

“I know you’re worried about her,” He’d said, hand on her shoulder, “But all she wants from you is to be her sister. Not her sister-mother-knight, I promise.”

_ But if I don’t, then who will? _

In the end she’d thought this all would make her feel better, that being there for Ruby while she pieced herself back together would put her back together too. But it all left her feeling frustrated and strangely hollow. Ruby would only ever truly be happy by throwing herself into the face of danger, and the only defenses Yang had against the panic that caused were some deep breaths, a heavy leather punching bag, and eventually a golden-maned mare. 

As the years rolled forward and Ruby, the farm, and life went back to flourishing, Yang found the panic dulled to a quiet throb. It was one that she couldn’t escape entirely, but only seemed to flare up late at night, or during long, hard days. Most of the time she was happy to let Ruby get into trouble, and even happier to follow her into that trouble once Ruby allowed it. Things had only returned to full-blown panic mode lately, due, of course, to the trip.

A long-lasting gust of air shakes the trees and sets Yang’s hair into motion. It feels good, jolting cold against the hot nape of her neck, and also doing the trick of bringing her mind back to the present. She’s been riding for hours now, and has found about as much as she expected.

Yang’s famously finite patience is wearing thin. She signals for Bumble to pick up speed, torn between praying she’ll find Blake taking a nap at the side of the road, or worrying that she’ll search the entire state-side and never find her, never find out if she made it.

The situation isn’t as simple as Ruby claimed, it never would be, but in many ways her sister had been right. Blake had never been aggressive unless Yang was first, was someone clearly in need, and later came to their aid without ever being asked. That Yang wasn’t begging the  _ healer’s daughter  _ to come along with them, offering their help in exchange for her knowledge is enough to turn her mood entirely dour. And as it stands, the only thing that’s going to lift it is finding someone who has no intention of being found. 

The only solace for Yang in her long, uneventful ride is the river. As soon as Yang had heard Blake was taking off again, she knew she couldn’t let her go empty-handed. One, because Blake was as good as dead without a means of carrying water, that much was simple. But a canteen that she’d no doubt use to its full potential, combined with having a layout of the twists and turns of the river for the next few dozen miles, gives Yang at least  _ something  _ to go off of other than a guess and a daydream about finding Blake’s ribbon dangling obviously in front of her eyes. 

Shadows grow longer now, and the clouds above them deepen into a heavy gray, gathering deeper and darker. She has to weigh the option then, the terrible one she’d known was coming. Was the plan now to turn back, make it back to the hotel before it’s too dark and face Ruby empty-handed? Or does she stay out here, curled up alone in the meager shelter offered by a tarp thrown over some branches?

As much as she’s not looking forward to it, Yang knows she’s got to turn back. Something in that newspaper had scared Blake off for good, and Yang could only hope that one day, Uncle Qrow might say something about her. It’s an awful feeling, the idea that the last she might have seen of Blake is the back of her head as she’d run like her life depended on it, but Yang can’t even know if she’s been going in the right direction all this time. She has to think of her wellbeing, and of Ruby’s well-being inextricably attached to hers. 

She decides to make for the Tortisch lake, a landmark they’d passed on the trail back in their old ventures with Summer and dad that’s not far off. Navigating the yearlings up the slope adjacent to the water was always a challenge, but the view of the thundering falls above it always seemed to make the trouble worth it. Or, at least it made a pleasant background for the sound of ten adults trying not to walk their horses off a cliff.

While Yang’s reflecting on the memory, one much more pleasant than the kinds of things she’d been thinking before, she feels the first few drops of water on her back. Digging her teeth into the skin behind her lip she motions for Bumble to trod onwards, patting her neck as the weather causes a displeased ear flick. 

She’s torn. With every passing moment the soft drizzle is becoming pattering rain, and if she can’t convince herself to turn back now, then at least it’s time to scope out somewhere to rest and stay as dry as she still can. But the falls have to be close, and Yang’s canteen is running low. Neither of those are good excuses, but they’re better than the third one Yang won’t list with the others, that she needs to see something that will make her feel better before she abandons the search.

The rain starts rolling in alongside quiet rumbles of thunder. Nothing earth-shaking or horse-terrifying, but enough to poke at Yang’s temper, smouldering embers under damp coals. Any other forces of nature want to pit themselves against her? What other dark wills of the world want to test her? She’s got a sister in bandages and an ally she’d scared off, two lost moms and a horse that’s starting to slip in the mud. What’s next?

More rain. Gentler than violent, angry sheets of it, but more than enough to soon have her soaked through. Yang’s starting to shake her head to clear some “rain” out of her eyes when Bumble, sweet, patient Bumble, turns the corner around a line of trees, and Yang realizes that  underneath the sound of the downpour, she’d forgotten to listen for the falls.

It is a stunning sight, even in the rain. Far above, water thunders down upon the swelling lake, creating churning gray waves that spray endlessly against the tall gray stones that surround it. In Yang’s mind the sky is blue and the falls are accompanied by birdsong and irate horse whinnies, but the cliffs are identical. Framed by greenery, waves lapping endlessly at the muddy shore, it’s the same sight she’d seen all those years ago, down to trees she’d once noticed from the confines of the wagon, their roots twisted and visible as they wrapped around the rocks but tried to stay dry from the spray.

Yang can see the same tree now, roots unchanged.

What makes it so lucky? 

How come that piece of wood hardly fit to make two table legs gets to sit, comfortable and unbothered by the rest of the world for  _ hundreds  _ of years, but Yang couldn’t get ten, fifteen more with Summer? Why couldn’t she be here with her now, stood between herself and Ruby, but only so she could have a hand on each of their shoulders as they’d watched birds flit and dive precariously over the cliffs? Wouldn’t it be so much better, then, to be able to look back and think,  _ wow, so many things have changed since the last time I was here, but at least I still have everything with me that matters? _

She sniffles, steering Bumble to the lake’s edge. It’s laughable right now, the idea that Yang might ever run out of water when she’d been traveling within a stone’s throw of the river this whole time, but it’s something she has to do. Otherwise, what will she say when she’s asked why she kept going even though it was a clearly fruitless endeavor?

She should have payed attention to Bumble, who begins rocking unsteadily the closer to the shoreline they get. But she’s not paying attention to anything right now, and that’s why she’s entirely unprepared for the world to slip out from underneath her.

“Oof, ugh!”

The mud is a cold, clingy slime that seeps any remaining warmth out of Yang where it lands. Her foot had slipped instantly where it fell, sending her flailing into the mud with one foot still in the stirrup. She shakes it loose, and more droplets of dirt flick up and land on her face. No matter where her hands land she can’t find a grip, and the effort to right herself might make her muddier than the initial fall. There’s nowhere to gain leverage to stand up that doesn’t depend on her trying to drag her horse down with her, and for a moment it’s all Yang can do to remain upright as the shoreline gently splashes closer.

Seems mother nature had accepted her earlier challenge, and laid out the world clear as day to send a message, “You’re not down two mothers, you’re down three.”

Yang’s crying openly now, but that last thought that flits through her head strikes  _ just  _ the right note, and then she’s sobbing. Despite the conditions it feels  _ good _ to be this angry, feels  _ good  _ to indulge the hurt. Big, heaving wails from the bottom of her lungs, that leave her throat sore and remind her of a time when baby Ruby was the one crying, and it didn’t feel like Yang’s sole responsibility to be the one to wipe those tears.

“ _ GODS-DAMMIT!” _

Her voice bounces off the stone walls, the sounds of her fists plunging into the earth are swallowed immediately by the mud. She feels helpless and terrified and foolish, and it’s only now setting in that there’s no way she’ll be able to find her way back before sunset.

She stays there, sniffling for just a little longer. She anchors her knees to the mud and tries to gently move forward, using Bumble’s stirrup for support. She shakily begins to pull herself upwards, and is maybe a third of the way when the soaked saddle slides on Bumble’s fine fur and sends Yang crashing back into the ground.

She lands, absorbing the impact until encroaching earth starts seeping past her ears, to her cheeks and lips. Eventually, she manages to shamble herself back up to a sitting position. She takes a couple of soft, earthy breaths in.

Then she screams, and she screams so loud that she can’t hear the rain or the falls or the thunder, all she can hear is herself begging for one, single thing to go right.

“Yang? Oh my Gods, Yang!”

Yang’s head whips to the side, several chunks of mud-heavy hair following the motion. There’s no Gods-damned way…

“Yang, are you okay?”

Blake breaks cover from a nearby wall of rock, hurrying forward in clothing that is much drier than Yang’s. Or, was. 

Yang just stares, her first thought being that she must have banged her head on the ground when she fell. But the sound of Blake’s approaching are very real, as is the concern in her eyes when she reaches the girl on the ground.

“Here,” Blake says, moving slowly through the sludge underneath them. She steadies herself against Bumble, and offers both hands to help leverage Yang from the muck. She’s looking down on her with such genuine concern, and Yang almost feels bad taking her soft, clean hands into her mud-laden ones. Once standing, Yang clings to her horse and breathes in soft, panting breaths.

“What are you doing out here?” Blake asks. But as she does a gust of wind and rain snakes across the shoreline, and her arms cross reflexively against the cold. Yang starts to answer and she shakes her head, motioning towards direction she’d come from. “Actually, hold on. Come with me.”

Blake is able to move gracefully across the flooded earth, and Yang follows unsteadily behind, using Bumble for support as they plod along. She leads them a few yards off, towards what Yang had originally assumed was a sheer rock wall, though closer inspection reveals a small space where the stone has fallen away, crumbled by time, and has left a small, shallow cave sheltered by an overhang. The grass is littered with small, pointy pebbles but the wind and rain can’t reach them here.  Yang groans with relief as she steps out of the downpour, then thinks better of it a second later.

There’s a place not far off where the jagged edge of the stone works as an effective funnel, and a constant trickle of rainwater makes a tiny version of the falls beside them. Yang, already soaked deep, steps underneath it and gasps at the feeling of cool water spilling down on the top of her head. She wrings her hands out, runs them over her face again and again, rinsing her hair until she can’t feel any mud, and any trace of her breakdown is washed away.

It’s a fast wash, she’ll need a long, deep scrub down to feel actually clean again later, but it does the trick. Blake watches her from where she stands, slowly wringing out the rain from Bumble’s mane. Yang can’t find words  for the feeling of seeing Blake in front of her again. Her heart is pounding. 

“Feel better?” Blake asks as Yang copies the motions on her own hair, trying not to frown too deeply at tiny pockets of dirt she’d missed.

“Feel less muddy.” Yang responds. She doesn’t mean to come off as cold, but her voice matches the temperature. “And feels pretty good to see you here.”

Blake’s face reddens in the low light. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and crouches down to the pile of debris at her feet. “How did you find me?”

Blake’s been here a while, at least long enough to scrounge up a decent pile of dry wood and leaves, as well as the body of a fish that lies on a leaf next to it. There’s a critical element missing though, and it’s the fire that Yang so sorely needs. Yang motions further into the cave, where the girl had tucked the canteen and map. “Had a guess, and a hope. I think it was you that found me again, though.”

Blake’s eyes flick in the same direction. Her eyebrows raise. “ _ Oh _ .”

Once she reaches the horse, Yang takes a moment to give Bumble some attention, running her hand up and down her neck, and lingering on a gentle scritch closer to the ear. Bumble leans into the touch, entirely satisfied by the action and completely unaffected by the sheen of rain on her fur. Like always, Yang feels the tension in her body ebb as she focuses on the steady, powerful beat of her horse’s heart.  _ Thank you. We did it. _

Then Yang moves to the saddlebags, where she fishes out another purchase from her trip to the general store. It’s not that she had any issue with baging rocks together or the much more labor-intensive bowstring method, but Yang had decided much earlier that she needed something a little more reliable on the tail end of their trip. Blake’s face lights up, both in a grin and thanks to the lighter flipping open, basking in the tiny flame it holds. “Need some help?”

They work together quietly, Blake cobbling together a circle out of rocky debris as Yang rations the fuel that Blake had picked up before the storm. If there was ever a time to speak with Blake earnestly, it’s come. And yet as Yang watches the way the fire between them softly illuminates the sharp lines of Blake’s chin and jaw, she finds she has no clue where to begin. 

“Ruby’s real mad at you.” She says finally, just to say  _ something.  _ Blake’s ears flick backwards, apologetic. She says, “I know. She’s got to be furious.”

“More like bewildered.” Yang says. Warmth is slowly starting to seep back into her, and it’s starting to settle in that the bone-chilling cold won’t last forever. “And scared that the rest of your trip wouldn’t be safe, that she’d never see you again.”

Blake laughs quietly. “I haven’t known her twelve hours.”

Yang shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. She sees a way she can help someone, and she can’t stop herself from lending a hand. She’s compelled to do good, to prove it still exists in the world.”

Blake nods, but her eyes never leave Yang’s. As always they’re detached from the rest of her expression, unreadable but inescapable. Yang straightens out her shoulders to make it more difficult to wriggle under the stare. Blake asks, “What about you?”

Yang balks. What  _ about  _ her?

“Do you think there’s goodness in the world?”

Yang frowns, just a little. She gets the feeling ‘it’s not that easy,’ is an answer they both know, but not the one Blake’s asking for. “I agree with my sister. Goodness comes through action.”

Blake nods, very slowly.

“That’s why I came out here to look for you, to take you back to rest, and join us on the rest of the trip to Taleri.” 

Blake closes her eyes, face a mask of dancing shadows in the low light. Yang’s watching her a long moment before she realizes the girl’s chin is gently shaking. Tears spill past her eyes when she opens them again, and her hand lifts gently towards her mouth, a feeble attempt to hide her expression. For a second Yang thinks she’ll refuse the offer and she launches into action, speaking as quickly as she can.

“Blake, listen to me. I should have asked you to come with us this morning. I’ve been under a lot of stress and it’s making me act in awful ways, and it made me say things to you that… Well, you know what it sounded like. I should have never-”

“Yang,” Blake’s voice is startlingly composed. “It’s okay. I understand why you hesitated, I think it was the right thing to do.”

Yang’s stomach twists. “That’s not-”

“Hold on,” Blake says, holding up a finger. She looks away, towards the still-pattering rain outside. “You asked me this morning who I’m running from. And before I agree to join you, I think it’s right that you know the answer. That you know what really happened before we met.”

The look on Blake’s face when she faces Yang again sends shivers running up and down her spine. Tongues of flame reflect against vibrant golden eyes, distant and regretful, but finally no longer searching for the next place to run. She breathes out a breath so deep it disturbs a branch in the fire, resulting in a cave-in and showering the air with sparks. Yang never looks away from her, she can’t.

“I’m going to tell you how I orchestrated an attack on my family, and and incited a violent mob at a protest for them the next day.”


End file.
